


The Dead of Winter

by Workparty



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Cheesy 80s Movie Vibes, Christmas Special, Gen, Survival Horror, Technically An Origin Story For Wes, spooky winter vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Workparty/pseuds/Workparty
Summary: It was supposed to be a fun trip for the winter holidays. Skiing, snowboarding, and plenty of snow, and the five of them would have the slopes to themselves. Unfortunately for Danny, he and his friends weren't as alone as they thought.Nothing is that easy in the dead of winter.
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Sam Manson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 40





	1. Deck the Hall

The snow crunched under the tires as the car flew over the submerged highway, drowned as it was in a sea of white; an unbroken blanket that sat on top of everything around their little car, crisp, clean, and untouched.

Frankly, the speed was starting to worry Danny a little. He leaned around the driver's seat and tapped Tucker on the shoulder. "Hey, Tuck, could you slow down a little? I don't think you're supposed to go this fast before the plows have been out."

Tucker shrugged without turning his face away from the road ahead. "Probably not, but Gertie's a heavy lady. We'll be fine." He patted the dash affectionately. The '85 Chrysler's bulk had kept them firmly on the road on the long flat lines of the Midwest, but Danny didn't think it would work in their favor so much in the twisting, turning mountain paths ahead.

He was about to tell him so when, on his right, Valerie pulled him back to his seat by the shoulder. "C'mon Fenton, if he's going to drive like a lunatic—"

"Hey! I heard that!" Tucker took his eyes off the road long enough to make Danny's heart skip a beat.

"—the _last_ thing you want to do is distract him. Although if he gets us killed, I _will_ murder him."

Danny held his hands up defensively. "Ok, fine. If we die in a car crash you have my full permission to come back as a ghost and murder Tucker."

He regretted the words as soon as he'd said them. Valerie froze up, and on her other side, Sam popped out an earbud and leaned around to look at him skeptically.

In the front passenger seat, Wes (surprisingly) spoke up, without moving his disinterested gaze from the window. To be honest, Danny wouldn't have guessed the basketball player had been paying any attention, if not for what he said. "Hey Dan, are ghosts actually dead people? Your parents were kinda vague at that ghost safety assembly."

Some were, and some weren't; _some_ were just humans who'd been in the right place at the right time. But he wasn't about to say any of that.

"It's 'Danny', and I have no idea, sounds like you pay more attention to my parents than I do." He didn't know the redhead that well, and that was one of the primary reasons he'd been avoiding using the "G" word. _Everyone_ knew his parents, and if he let them, they'd always have questions. And with a secret like his, while sitting next to Valerie? He'd rather not give out too many answers.

Fortunately, Wes let the topic drop. He made a noncommittal noise and went back to staring out the window.

Discretely, Danny pulled out his cell phone and opened his last text message to Sam. He hit reply and wrote; _"wh_ _y is there a jock_ _w us again"_

The 1 bar of cell reception fizzled out before it sent, and Danny went back to looking out his own window. The birches, maples, and oaks had given way to pine trees at some point as the car climbed and climbed further from civilization. The banks of previous snowstorms were already piled up along the sides of the road, which made the amount of fresh snow still unplowed seem even more ridiculous. Now that he looked, it was actually starting to snow a bit again, although it was hard to tell in the fading daylight. He checked his phone again; it was only 4:45 and the dark grey clouds overhead were already being painted stormy hues of orange and red.

Tucker mercifully slowed down a bit around a corner and Danny knew network coverage had returned when Sam's cellphone buzzed. He heard her pause the Dumpty Humpty album she'd been killing her eardrums with, and opened his message with an amused exhale.

_"its political"_

What on earth was that supposed to mean? He replied back. _"?"_

_"tucker complained he felt like a third wheel, so he invited val, who he has a crush on"_

_"so why is wes here?"_

_"tuck didnt say it was a date so she invited wes, who she has a crush on"_

A second message came straight after. _"its purely for his body. i heard he's dumb as a rock"_

Danny held back a laugh at Tucker's expense and felt a little bad that had been his first reaction. He leaned around the seat again and patted Tucker on the shoulder.

"What was that for, Danny?" Tucker asked, sounding confused.

"Uh, just thanks for not killing us on that last switchback."

"Hey, I'm telling you, Gertie is half mountain-goat! We'll be totally fi—" He let out a curse as very suddenly the back tires disagreed with the front tires about the sharp curve in the road. The back end of the car fishtailed and Danny found himself thrown against the wall as Tucker steered into the skid, drifting through the hairpin. He punched the gas and the tires bit asphalt, righting their course back up the hill instead of into the trees.

He slowed to a stop while everyone recovered.

"...y'see, we're fine," he tried to say it confidently, but he was out of breath as he did it.

Danny and Sam both had to hold Valerie back as she lunged at him. "Foley, I am absolutely going to _kill you_ if you do that again!"

Up in the front, both Tucker (and Wes for that matter) leaned away from the center of the car to avoid her as he chuckled weakly and started driving forward again. When Valerie had calmed down a bit Sam managed to get a word in. "Y'know Valerie if you keep talking about killing people like that, eventually they're going to think you don't mean it." It was probably meant as a joke, but it did almost nothing to cut the tension in the car, and they were completely silent for the next several miles.

It was definitely getting dark now, and the snow was picking up considerably with fat, heavy flakes. Eventually, Sam spoke up again. "Hey, Tucker, slow down a bit more," and she didn't need to tell him twice anymore, "I think the turn-off is right up ahead— Yeah, see, there's the sign on the right."

Past the snow and in the beam of the car's headlights, Danny could see the worn, painted sign, with "Kiljoy Falls" written in fancy gothic lettering and bordered by peeling cardinals sitting on evergreen branches; the overall effect was intended to make it look like they'd left the Northeast behind and entered a fairy-tale kingdom in the Alps.

But between the trees, Danny's first glimpse of the town put that to rest. It looked like every forgotten mountain village he'd ever passed through, although with more having been left behind than most of the others. Snow sat heavily on modern shops and chalets, and almost buried squat pre-war cedar-shingle-sided cabins under tall drifts. The road in was completely invisible; the state hadn't bothered to send in snowplows for what Danny could only guess had been a very long time.

"Gertie" handled the first few feet admirably, but eventually Tucker had to turn off to one side and park it. "Uh, I think we'll have to walk the rest of the way."

Danny groaned. Carrying stuff as a human was the absolute worst when he could bench-press a bus as a ghost. Wes seemed to correctly interpret what he was thinking, turning around to face him, with a slight frown. "Hope you packed light, Dan, I'm not helping you carry _your_ stuff." Well, almost correctly.

He shot the redhead a dirty look as he adjusted his hat and zipped up his jacket. "If we were meant to carry everything ourselves, we wouldn't have invented cars. And it's still 'Danny'."

Wes looked back at him, annoyed. "You could have made it easier on yourself if you'd actually dressed for the weather. Did you think we were going to Orlando?"

He almost laughed but settled for sharing a sly grin with Sam. "I don't really feel the cold, so I've got that going for me."

Tucker did chuckle from the driver's seat as he popped open his door, Val and Wes exchanging a glance as if they knew they had missed a joke.

* * *

The walk through town was a cold slog, trudging through snow that came up well over Danny's winter boots, although in some windswept areas between buildings, it had hardened enough to support their weight. They had to switch to flashlights to illuminate their walk as the last dregs of sunlight had disappeared behind the surrounding peaks, again far too early for Danny's liking; somehow the early sunsets surprised and disappointed him anew every December. The last time he had checked his phone, it was barely 5:30, and Kiljoy Falls, nestled in a small valley, had no coverage to speak of.

When he pointed this out, he heard rather than saw Sam roll her eyes at the head of their single-file line through the desolate streets. "Well, we _are_ in the middle of nowhere, Danny. You didn't expect Verizon to cover ghost towns, did you?"

Wes butt in before Danny could respond. "So what's the deal with this place again? I feel like I missed a memo." Unspoken was the question _if we're in the middle of nowhere, why did Valerie bring me here_?

"My family used to run one of the big ski resorts here back in the 60s. When... My grandma passed away this summer, my parents decided to take it on as a restoration project."

Wes scoffed and Danny felt the irrational urge to push him into a snowbank. "They didn't get very far."

"I noticed, thank you," Sam replied, more ice in her voice than on some of the rooftops, "but the resort itself is pretty much cleaned up. We should be able to get some good skiing in. Most of the buildings are livable and the ski lifts have all passed inspections, even if the area isn't exactly ready for _guests_ yet."

"Wait, so what does that make us?" Tucker asked, nervously.

Sam turned on him with a wicked glint in her eyes. " _Test subjects_."

Tucker made a small, squeaking sound involuntarily, and again Danny had to hold back a laugh, although neither Sam nor Valerie shared his hesitation.

Half a block later, they arrived at the edge of the village, and their destination. Sturdy steel cables lead out the back of the wooden structure, which was at one time meant to look rustic but now just looked dilapidated, and ran over rocky, boulder-strewn hills up the side of the mountain. As they approached the dusty glass front door, Sam shoved a gloved hand into her jacket pocket and fished around for a moment before extracting a well-populated keyring.

"Give me a second to figure out which one of these is for the door..."

Danny readjusted his stance as he could feel one boot about to sink through the top, icy layer of the snowbank. The snow was falling heavily now, in large fluffy flakes that made it difficult to see all the way back to the car at the far end of the wide main street. He hadn't felt his ghost sense go off for the entire walk, but he also couldn't shake the pervasive feeling of being watched. The part of him that didn't trust quiet moments swept the rooflines for any sign of... Anything at all, but found nothing anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Valerie doing her own scan of the village, her eyes narrowed in distrust. Was she on edge too? Not a great sign, it made paranoia less likely as a culprit for his own unease.

He made a point to turn his back on the town before Val noticed what he was doing too, and instead focused on the rest of the group. As Sam tried keys, Tucker was typing madly away on his smartphone, despite the lack of reception. He was either writing code or playing a game, Danny couldn't quite decide which was more likely. Wes, in his ridiculous, puffy winter coat, was leaning against the wall, impatiently looking at Sam and the front door. Danny was again tempted to tell the lanky senior that he hadn't _had_ to come along.

"Ugh, finally." The door's lock clicked and Sam threw it open, a small mound of snow piling up in front of it, stopping it from opening more than about halfway. "Listen, don't lock any doors behind you while we're here, I've got the only keys. I don't think anybody else is coming here for the rest of the season anyway."

Danny stole a glance at Valerie, who looked like she didn't quite trust that statement.

While the group was _very_ glad to be out of the snow — even Danny had thought he felt the cold wind starting to get under his skin — the inside wasn't objectively much better. It reminded Danny of the train station back home that had been abandoned in the 1970s, with its rows of plastic chairs, warped linoleum floors, and wood paneling. Aside from the "winter wonderland" themed decor, the only difference between here and downtown Amity Park was that all the windows were still intact. It would have been cold _and_ pitch dark inside if they'd been boarded over.

Tucker tried a light switch without results. "Uh, Sam, there's no power here."

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, thank you. There was a small hydroelectric dam in the area that was abandoned right around the same time as the town. They just packed up and left. It's even pretty much in working order, but the state still hasn't approved it to be officially 're-activated' until they can do an environmental assessment next summer. So instead of green energy, we'll be using the resort's backup generator and burning _diesel_ while we're here."

"It's a real win for the environment," Danny added. Sam rolled her eyes at him.

"Give me a minute. I'm going to go start the generator."

She disappeared into a side room and when the silence became awkward Danny tried to break the ice. "So, how long have you been snowboarding?"

Valerie snapped back to attention, having been lost deep in her thoughts. "Been a couple of years now I guess. Do you remember that 7th-grade field trip we went on? That was when I graduated from skiing."

"Oh yeah," Wes spoke up from the grimy plastic seat he'd sunken into, "You were the only 12-year-old who went to the terrain park with us. You had some sick moves, even if you totally bit it every time you tried a handplant." He was riding the line between approval and amusement. From the look on Valerie's face, she took it as a compliment.

"Thanks, I think. How about you Fenton?"

"Nah, the three of us are sticking to skis—"

"I'm actually not fully committed to leaving the nice warm ski lodge," added Tucker, without looking up from what he was doing on his phone.

"Well, Sam and I are sticking to skis, anyway, while Tucker either hacks the NSA or plays Tetris. I don't want to chance a broken bone this far out in the middle of nowhere."

"Me neither, which is why I'll be inside keeping the fire going." Tucker pocketed his phone. "And for the record without internet access, I won't be hacking anything, so, it's Tetris."

Wes perked up a bit at that. "Wait, have you hacked the NSA before?"

"Uh, well, not the _NSA_..."

"What did you find? Anything about Area 51? Did you find out where the government is hiding the aliens? How about where the _aliens_ are hiding the _government_? Anything like that?" There was a slight glint in his eyes and Danny thought Wes might actually be smiling. It was a bit frightening to see, for the first time in the three years they'd been at school together.

Tucker had no idea how to begin to address that line of questioning, while Valerie laughed heartily for a few seconds before realizing Wes wasn't. "...come on Wes, you don't really believe in that stuff, do you?"

"What, you live in a town that gets invaded by ghosts every day and you _don't_ think there's more we aren't being told?"

He looked meaningfully at Danny after he said that, who was thoroughly relieved when the lights clicked on with the sound of a distant engine starting. Sam returned a moment later.

"Alright nerds, let's get going." She picked up her luggage without missing a beat and flung open the door to the platform. Danny very gladly followed right behind her, with Tucker hot on his heels. Valerie and Wes hung back, still talking, and Sam shot Danny an inquiring glance.

"...yeah I dunno if he's dumb or just gullible," he said in a low whisper.

Tucker dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. "He asked me where the government was hiding the aliens. _The aliens._ "

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Sam deadpanned.

"Whatever, we won't have problems unless he starts trying to tell me the moon landing was faked." Danny crossed his arms, glaring back into the lobby area, where the other two were now emerging, pointedly not talking to each other.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "That's very kind of you to do for him." She raised her voice a bit when everybody was all in one place. "Ok, I'm going to start the motor. The gondola should stop for about 5 seconds and then take us up to the lodge, so make sure you get on. It's a long-ass walk."

The cables shuddered to life, creaking and complaining the whole while. The quintet boarded too quickly to think too much about it, which was probably for the best. With a start, the carriage rumbled forward just as they all got seated.

As they climbed out of the station and started their journey up the side of the mountain, Danny felt a cold tingle up his spine. The feeling of being watched was back; his eyes darted over the treeline, where the rocks and snow below gave way to the dark forest but spotted nothing.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sam asked him in a hushed tone.

"It looks desolate," Tucker replied.

"That's what I said."

Danny turned back to face her, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly returned his gaze to the area he'd noticed it. He scanned the rocks and crevices, but still didn't spot anything. The feeling of being watched had left, but the unnatural chill remained. He shivered.

Valerie apparently spotted that. She grinned at him mischievously. "Scared, Fenton?"

"It's perfectly normal to be scared of heights!" Wes interjected, "who wouldn't be, we're like 50 feet up in a rusty old gondola."

Looking back at his friend, Danny could tell that Tucker _really_ _, really_ wanted to say something about that, but was choosing to take the high road. "Why did your parents stop coming here anyway, Sam?"

"It was my grandparents, actually, this was like 40 years ago. I guess it wasn't 'the place' to impress their business partners anymore. But the resort, this one and the others in the area, they kept running without them until 1980-something. Then everything kind of shut down at once. I guess there were other, better ski resorts." She ended on a shrug as if it didn't interest her all that much.

Even when she was the one who was dragging them all up the side of the mountain.

Danny left it alone though. Valerie and Sam talked for a while about how wasteful people could be, abandoning an entire town, but he could tell Sam's heart wasn't in it. After that, the rest of the trip passed in silence as they were dragged skyward over the sharp rocks below.

* * *

Danny's first impression, as he walked out of the mirror-image lift station at the top of the hill, was that Red House Ski Lodge was staring at him.

It's unblinking, dark facade was angular, constructed of shiny glass and steel, and then covered in logs and rough-hewn siding that could serve no structural purpose aside from hiding the steel and shiny glass. Over the years those shining eyes had dulled in the elements, dusty cataracts over the windows that partially obscured the cavernous interior.

His second impression was that it wasn't staring at _him_ so much as something behind him, a feeling he was having a hard time shaking, no matter how many times he discretely checked over his shoulder. Fortunately, they didn't have long to wait for Sam this time, as the lodge's key was the only one on the keychain to be marked with blue painter's tape. The heavy wooden door swung forward and Sam stepped inside, flicking a switch and sending light spilling over the snow as the rest of the group squeezed inside behind her.

Winter coats and hats (and Tucker's earmuffs) were discarded and slung haphazardly over the bench seating in the entryway, and they climbed the steps into the great hall.

The warm, wooden interior was a stark contrast to the building's exterior, even with a thin layer of dust on everything. A massive stone fireplace was the focal point of the room with what Danny presumed were couches under sheets radiating outward in a circle. The perimeter was lined with more intimate seating areas and cafe tables under huge, wooly wall tapestries.

All in all, it looked like it could comfortably fit a hundred people at a party, even though they were presently outnumbered by the chandeliers that hung from the rafters. It was welcoming in an unstoppable way that made Danny feel small; everything towered and loomed large above him. But he couldn't deny that it was nice to have a closed door between them and the darkness outside.

Dinner was chana masala and basmati rice, and at Tucker's insistence and to Sam's displeasure, smuggled hot dogs roasted over a crackling fire. Afterward, the sheets were removed from rustic couches and the other four teens talked and laughed for what felt to Danny like hours.

He wasn't even sure when he excused himself to the howling wind outside, but some time later, Tucker found him on a second-floor wraparound balcony, staring off into the distance. Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when Tucker opened the door, although if he noticed he was kind enough not to mention it.

"Since when are you the loner out on the deck at parties? I thought that was Sam's job."

Danny motioned back toward the great room over his shoulder. "Right now she's being the gracious host, so I need to be the loner."

Tucker took up position next to him at the railing, looking up at the cloudy sky rather than the forest below. "...so why are you really out here? There're no stars to gaze."

With a sigh, he gave one last backward glance to make sure it really was just the two of them in earshot. "...I felt like we were being followed. Valerie noticed it, too, I think. I'm out here watching for threats."

"Danny, Danny, Danny," Tucker groaned, taking off his glasses with one hand and burying his eyes in the other. "I really need you to know that knowing you is never weirder than when you say spooky shit like that."

Danny chuckled and leaned onto the railing, returning his gaze to the grounds.

"So, see anything I should worry about?"

"Not yet. Not exactly," he admitted, "but I still feel like something's watching us. I don't know what it wants, either."

"Cool, so, _I'm_ sleeping with an ectogun under my pillow tonight. If I sleep at all. Thanks for that."

"...do you feel it too?"

"I'll be honest, I do, but only now that you've firmly planted that nightmare fuel in my head. Again, thanks."

"Hey, 'be prepared', right?"

"We're not scouts, Danny, we're ghost hunters, and us mortals are pretty useless against things we can't see."

Danny pushed himself backward from the edge a bit, trying to adopt a more casual stance. He hadn't really wanted to stir Tucker up, but it seemed like his friend's overactive imagination was going the distance tonight. "Look, it's probably nothing. We're in a creepy old town and I haven't had to fight a ghost in 29 hours, my system probably doesn't know how to cope."

He tried to smile, but Tucker didn't seem convinced.

"Would it make you feel better if I came inside?"

"A lot better actually, yeah."

"Ok, fine, let's head in. I'm getting cold out here anyway." Danny rubbed his hands together, briefly regretting that he hadn't brought gloves.

"I thought you didn't _get_ cold."

"We've never exactly put that to the test, have we? How long have I been out here anyway?"

Tucker made a show of checking his watch. "57 minutes."

"Well, then I'm overdue for hot chocolate. Let's go."

As they walked away from the ledge, Danny abruptly felt his attention pulled away from the house and back toward the forest. The eyes were no longer on them and the air almost crackled with palpable energy, telling him to _GO_

A second later, he had vaulted over the railing and landed on the ground a dozen feet below, waist-deep in a snowdrift. There was snow up inside his pant legs and the ice crystals prickled against his warm skin. The sudden deep-freeze brought him back to awareness, and confusion at what he was doing there.

"Danny!" Danny looked back up at the balcony he'd just leaped from, where Tucker was staring down at him in disbelief. "What the hell, man! Are you _crazy_?!"

He was about to reply when the noise attracted something's attention. With a wave of dread, he felt eyes back on him, and this time he was on the wrong side of the light.

Forgetting everything else for a second, he intangibly floated out of the snowdrift and onto more stable ground and practically sprinted around the lodge to the front door. He didn't stop running, not even to look at the shadows shifting through the trees around the property until he was through the door and had closed it behind him.

His legs were shaking. And it had nothing to do with the cold.

Valerie was the first one to peer down at him from the top of the stairs, with something approaching concern. "You OK, Fenton? ...how did you even get outside?"

"I uh... I fell off the balcony."

He heard Wes laugh even before the freckled face appeared from behind Val. "Nice job going outside in a blizzard wearing a t-shirt. It's like you're just asking to get Murphy's Law-ed."

"Thanks for the hindsight Wes, real helpful." Danny slumped down onto the ground, back to the door. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes; he could almost feel the foreign presence receding from around the lodge. Whatever had been there, it had lost interest and left.

"Uh, Danny?" He opened his eyes, and Sam was stooped over him, with Tucker hovering not far behind. She looked concerned enough that Tucker must have filled her in on the details. "You gonna get up buddy, or are you good there?"

Valerie and Wes had left. How long had he been resting there?

"Yeah, sorry, it was... Yeah." He stumbled to his feet, Sam's steady arm supporting him under one elbow.

They lead him back to a couch, where he wrapped up in an old, relatively freshly laundered blanket, and finally had that hot chocolate. It did more for everyone else's nerves than his own. Neither did much to banish the chills.

At one point, Sam started rifling through a stack of old vinyl ("It's an irony thing," she explained, when Tucker pointed out that she had brought along a perfectly fine MP3 player) and put a Christmas album on an old turntable they were all amazed still worked properly. With the jaunty, cheesy jazz melodies as a backdrop, they talked around about not very much at all for a while longer before Wes yawned, followed in a chain reaction by Valerie.

"It _is_ getting kinda late, we should turn in. What's the sleeping situation here Manson?"

Sam, who had been quietly curled up in the corner seat with a mug of tea, looked caught off guard. "Oh yeah. I guess I forgot to mention. There are some rooms in here that my grandparents kept as a private residence, but the cleanup crew didn't get to the upper floor before winter set in. The first 3 guest cabins out in the courtyard are livable, though."

"Please define 'Livable'," Tucker asked.

Wes scoffed, "Well it beats 'rat-infested'. You aren't afraid of roughing it, are you?"

Danny, again, looked at the lanky basketball player in his jeans and cable-knit green sweater. He didn't particularly look ready to "rough it" more than anyone else did; Valerie at least had pulled her hair back in a very practical ponytail and was already dressed to hit the slopes, and he knew what Tucker and Sam could do when pressed.

...on the other hand, a refurbished cabin at a ski resort wasn't really "rough" to begin with, so, again, he kept his thoughts to himself.

But when he met Sam's eye, he thought she might be thinking much the same thing anyway.

He'd missed what people had actually been saying, and was caught off guard when Wes out and said "So that leaves you two on the couches, right?"

Danny blinked back to awareness. "Sorry?"

He received an eye-roll. "I said I'm taking one of the cabins, Valerie will take a second, and Tucker is taking the third, so that leaves you two in the lodge on couches. That's not a problem, is it?"

Neither Valerie nor Tucker seemed happy about that plan for similar reasons, but Danny didn't feel like he could object. "Not a problem for me. Sam?"

She shrugged noncommittally, looking at her mug rather than at him.

"Alright, well, have a good night in your cabins, guys. See you tomorrow." He grinned toothily at Tucker, who gave him a you're-enjoying-this-way-too-much look.

The door barely finished closing before Sam's eyes were boring right into his own. "Alright, dish. Why'd you try to jump off a balcony?"

"I didn't 'try', Sam, I _did_ jump off the balcony."

"Ok smart-ass, why'd you do _that_ then?"

Danny set his mug down on a coffee table and slumped back into the ancient, Nordic-patterned cushions. "I have no idea. It was like this feeling... Like I wanted to? Like I had to, even. I had to go... Somewhere." He tried to recall the moment more clearly, but everything between turning away from the lodge and "waking up" in the snowbank was hazy at best.

Sam chuckled at his side, and he looked at her inquisitively. She stopped laughing, but smiled fondly at him. "Sorry, you scrunch up your nose when you're really deep in thought. I take it that's the best you can do? You had to go 'somewhere'?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You think it's ghost related?"

"Well, that'd explain why Tucker wasn't over the railing right after me, wouldn't it?"

She frowned at that. "And we just sent three people out into the cold on their own."

"I mean... Yeah? But I know Tucker packed some Fentonworks gear, and I'm sure Valerie is always ready for the worst. And I'll have plenty of notice before any... Real threats show up."

"...Why do you say 'real threats'?"

Damn. Tucker _hadn't_ told her everything. "Oh, uh, I was kind of wigging out earlier, I thought I could feel something watching us. But it's gone now."

"'It's gone' like the feeling is gone, or whatever was causing it is gone?"

"Both, I hope? Or maybe just the first one. I don't really know." She sighed and leaned back as well, staring into the fire with faraway eyes. How do you tell someone they're probably right to be worried, but not to? "I'm sure it'll be fine Sam, we're miles away from the nearest ghost portal, it won't be anything I can't handle if there is anything... Around here."

"Don't get me wrong, I want everyone to have a fun weekend, I just don't want anyone to get _hurt_ while I..." She trailed off, still looking into the fireplace.

The silence stretched past a minute before Danny prompted her. "While you...?"

"...my grandma never liked to talk about this place. She'd never tell me why exactly, but one time I managed to get a straight answer out of my father, and... He told me when he was really young, Ida came out here with my grandpa once or twice a season. And then one time he didn't come back with her."

Sam was quiet for a moment. The turntable, with no understanding of tone, was playing "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" and Danny was tempted to throw a shoe at it; she had never talked about her grandfather before, not to him at least, and he wanted to give her space. Eventually she glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. Whatever she saw, her eyes flicked back to the fire and she continued.

"He just... Disappeared into the night. And for the next couple of months my father was practically raised by a nanny, because grandma spent all her time out here, searching. Long after the official investigation ended. I guess they ruled his death a probable suicide, but they never did find a trace of him one way or another. The lack of motive or real suspects were the only reason they discounted murder. But, one day she went back to Amity Park, and never talked about this place again."

Sam leaned into his side and Danny carefully draped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "And I understand why, you know? It must have been painful for her. But I also know she had a lot of happy memories here, before that. Her and my grandpa would bring all their friends out here, not just business associates. I got to talking with one of her bowling buddies at the funeral, and he said they were one of those like, legendary couples who always looked happy together, and even at these huge occasions they were... Unguarded. And I guess I want to understand that side of her too. Before the pain."

He didn't know what to say, so he just pulled her closer, resting his head on hers.

But then the record player finally ruined the mood.

_"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire; Jack Frost nipping at your nose— Frost nipping at your nose— Frost nipping at your nose—"_

"The record is skipping," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah," he said.

"One of us should probably turn it off," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed.

And so she did.

And then some time later, Danny awoke on the couch with a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to The Dead of Winter; my name is Workparty, I will be your author this evening. This is a story I've been wanting to write since 2017, but only started in earnest on 9 December this year. As much as it's about anything, it's about figuring out who matters to us, and what we'll do for them. But mostly it's a slightly reductive horror plot that captured my fancy.
> 
> This will be taking precedence over my other projects for a while, because if you're going to write a story called The Dead of Winter, it really does need to be published in the dead of winter.


	2. O Tannenbaum

The wind was gusting outside, and the windows occasionally rattled as the air whistled its way over (and through) the ski lodge's decorative facade. It was almost loud enough to explain why he had woken up, but of course, Danny knew better than to trust easy explanations for late-night wake-up calls.

He let out a heavy breath, watching for misting. Nothing; not a ghost, then. Although he _did_ feel cold.

The sensation had become unfamiliar to him, even more than the early December sunsets. Those were an annual surprise. This chill, goosebumps rising on his arms as he sloughed off the soft blanket, this wasn't a feeling he'd registered in over two years. He actually shivered in a cold room, because the room was cold. He snorted when he realized how benign that was, after how long it had been gone.

Wrapping the blanket around him, he threw another log on the fireplace, greedy embers biting into it almost immediately. It flared up, lighting the darkened room slightly, but he couldn't feel the heat yet. He shivered again and for a moment almost wanted to just lie down and go back to sleep.

But that deeply ingrained, paranoid part of his psyche wouldn't settle for less than a full sweep of the room. Danny was happy to indulge it. It had an alarming habit of being right.

He turned around, back to the fire, and glanced around the room. Orange light was dancing over the couches and on the sleeping figure of Sam. She was breathing heavily, deep asleep. He forced himself not to stare too long.

The rest of the room didn't benefit much from the firelight. Shadows climbed high up the walls, but to actually navigate around all the furniture silently, Danny had to thank his supernaturally good night vision. It came in handy, especially on a completely moonless night. As he walked up to the window, he could see the courtyard as a pale grayscale, keen eyes fixating on every branch and bough swaying in the wind, every cloud of snow kicked up over a ridge. The landscape was reshaping itself constantly. But there was nothing _unusual_.

Which wasn't ideal. It removed "outside" as a source of threats, and that just left...

He turned around quickly enough to hit a chair with the flare of his blanket, and there it was. Whatever it was.

A pale blue orb hung suspended in mid-air, at approximately chest height, halfway between him and the fireplace. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it cast a dim little glow on the wooden floor. Instantly, his mind was evaluating entrances, exits, obstacles, cover.

Danny stepped to the right.

The orb floated to the left, curiously.

It was definitely a ghost. Not a particularly threatening one – it didn't even have a proper form – but what was it doing all the way out here? It wasn't doing anything particularly aggressive, but when it moved toward Sam sleeping on the couch, _Danny_ certainly did.

He half-jumped and half-flew between the orb and the couches, dropping into a ready stance, and he knew his eyes were probably glowing a frightening shade of green. He would happily back that up with force if needed, although if he could take care of this without waking Sam up, even better.

The ghost seemed to get the message. It stopped in the middle of the room, hovering uncertainly for a moment. He felt like it was evaluating him, like it was watching his every move, although it wasn't quite the spine-tingling, dread-inducing feeling he'd been grappling with earlier. This was calmer. Less overtly hostile, at least. More like it wanted to see what Danny would do next, and he resolved to let it make all the first moves and keep the element of surprise if possible.

So when it floated upwards a bit, he only followed it with his eyes at first. It paused in its ascent, still watching him, and he crossed his arms and stayed glued to the floor.

When it started floating towards Sam over his head, it finally forced his hand.

A wave of light burst forth from his midsection, lighting up the entire room in an unearthly glow, banishing the soft shadows cast by the fireplace. The wave split in two, rippling up and down over his body. It was a phosphoric fire that burned so bright it looked like all it left in its path was an afterimage where Danny had been standing; in a sense, it was. His human clothing burned away, leaving in its wake the black and white image of a hazmat suit he hadn't truly worn since the day of the accident, all those long months ago.

Where the ripples of light met the bare flesh of his feet and arms, it left him in brilliantly white boots and gloves, all the way up to a sharp break at his neck. As it passed beyond that and over his face, relatively little changed. His hair turned from black to a shocking white. His eyes changed from their normal placid blue back to that frightening glowing green. All of him was glowing, in fact, as if the light had never truly faded away. His ghostly alter-ego, Danny Phantom, was one big ember waiting for a log.

He floated off the ground weightlessly and rose halfway up to the rafters to meet the orb.

Then he growled at it.

When he realized what he had done, he got his first hint that he may have made a mistake. The watching feeling pressed in on the room from every window, every crack in every wall. Excited. Hungry. As if a hundred faceless watchers were all jockeying with each other for the best view of— _ATTACK_

That deeply ingrained, paranoid part of him reeled as though burned. He spun in mid-air looking for his target, and the ghostly orb of light made the mistake of attracting his attention first, as it tried to move away from him.

Danny snarled and shot after it. It retreated as quickly as he could fly after it, passing straight through the side of the lodge. He passed through the wall intangibly, disoriented for a moment before he spotted it as a bright speck against the dark of the trees around the property. He could still feel the eyes watching him from every impossible angle available, but nothing mattered to him as much as ripping, tearing, attacking the orb of light. It was after his Sam. It had hurt him. He would destroy it.

It weaved through the trees of the forest and he capably followed, gaining on it slowly. When it ducked left, he flew left. When it hooked right, he went right. When it flew between heavy, snow-laden boughs, he flew between them too, getting a faceful of snow as dozens of sharp pine needles scratched at his face and through his scalp.

It was almost within striking distance and he smiled in premature victory, summoning a ball of crackling, spitting ectoplasmic energy in one hand. Still moving forward, he lined up his shot, and fired; it pulled off a sharp hairpin turn and the ectoplasm missed its target, obliterating a tree instead. Cursing, Danny flipped around in mid-air and gave chase again.

Or he would have if he hadn't instead flown straight into a fir tree.

He hadn't been ready for it and bore the brunt of the sturdy trunk face-first. Danny lost control of his flight and instantly dropped out of the air like a hot rock, with no branch or bough wanting to hold him, just slowly breaking his fall as he tumbled through and over them on the long way down to the ground.

When he finally hit the forest floor, he'd reverted back to human form. He lay snow that was at least 6 inches deep, with all the snow he'd disturbed on the way down piling up on top of him.

...how the hell did he get here?

He sat up, once again wracked with shivers, and tried to brush as much snow off of him as possible. Even with his night vision, he couldn't see anything but trees stretching off in every direction. With a frown he stumbled to his feet, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. What happened? More importantly, how was he supposed to find his way back to the ski lodge?

Why did he feel a little bit like he wanted to hurt something?

The forest was quiet and gave him no answers.

At that moment, the light he had been inspecting appeared from behind a tree trunk a few dozen yards away. When he made "eye contact" it shied away a bit, but when all he did was stumble toward it on unsteady feet, it came back out into full view. He didn't want to attack it, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit like it was to blame for his predicament.

When he got to within a few feet of it, it seemed to turn and move forward at a slow, steady pace, leading him between the tall, dark trees and over the snow and ice of the forest.

He started counting paces he took walking after it, but quickly lost track. Time itself slipped out of his grasp as they made their way through the forest, seconds and minutes blurring together under a starry sky that seemed to lurch forward and backward every time he spared it a glance.

Eventually, they broke through into the ski lodge's courtyard. The orb of light stopped at the edge, letting him continue until he was almost right next to it. As he made it to the border between trees and open space, the feeling of being watched returned for the first time since yesterday, but it felt... Remote. He spared the orb of light and glance and wondered if they were afraid of it, or...

Whatever the reason, he'd have to hope it would stay that way.

Danny broke into a dead sprint before he could overthink it, and made it to the front door in what he was sure must have been a personal record for a 100-meter dash. He had flung the door open and closed it behind him with a slam before collapsing once again in the entryway.

And before thinking about the noise.

"...Danny?"

Shit.

"Danny, is that you?" Sam was awake.

He steadied his breath a bit and responded. "Uh, yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep."

Danny heard footsteps approaching and knew he'd been ignored. Sam's face appeared over the railing, looking down at him with tired, confused concern. "Were you outside again? You're _covered_ in snow, c'mon, get in here..."

"Sam, it's fine, I— Hey!" From the top of the steps, she'd thrown a blanket over his head. In the time it took him to figure out how to get it _off_ of him, Sam was picking him up off the floor by a shoulder. His legs were useless on the ascent.

"Yeah, you're 'fine' Danny; you're shaking all over. It's like 10 degrees out there, what were you doing outside?"

He allowed himself to be lead up the stairs, Sam carrying the brunt of his weight. The help was genuinely appreciated since he felt like he'd run a marathon. "I uh... There was a ghost?"

She just about dropped him. "'Miles from the nearest ghost portal'?"

"Uh, yeah. It wasn't like anything we've got back home. It was just a little ball of light, really, but—"

"But you needed to chase it off?"

She was looking at him with as much exasperation as she could muster while carrying him across the room. He chose not to respond.

Sam took the silence as a yes, rolling her eyes before setting him down in front of the fireplace with a sigh. "I worry about you sometimes, ghost boy."

He chuckled weakly, leaning back against a coffee table. "I know. Thanks."

"Because you know," she continued, throwing some more wood on the fire, "there's a fine line between cautious and over-protective."

"Hey! I'm not that bad. And it was _literally_ a ghost, it could have done anything."

Sam shot him a look. "Yeah, those ghosts are unpredictable. They could even fly off in the middle of a cold winter night without a coat."

Danny had no defense there. He just shrugged under the blanket as she slumped down, exhausted, beside him. "I just don't want anything to happen to my friends. Besides, I never get cold."

"Right, that's why you only stopped shaking when I put you in front of a roaring fire."

He pulled part of the blanket over her, and she didn't object. He briefly thought about replying with a corny line or trying to deny it, but as the adrenaline faded he was too tired to argue. They just laid back on the dusty carpet, silently, and sleep overtook Sam in a matter of minutes.

And as her breaths slowed, that deep, cautious part of him finally relaxed, too. He felt like they were safe here, just like this.

It was a new feeling. Surprising, even.

As he watched the fire overtaking the fresh logs, he wasn't sure if he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coincidentally, most of this chapter was written during the nor'easter that shut down half the eastern seaboard. Chilly winter vibes lead to chilly winter vibes, I suppose. Chapter 3 as well, which used to be part of this chapter. Unfortuantely in the edit it didn't flow quite how I wanted it to, so it's been broken out into its own unit; even if that does make this chapter one long stream-of-ghostfight affair.


	3. O Come, All Ye Faithful

Red House Ski Lodge was a different person in the sunshine.

When Danny awoke again, he had slumped over onto the floor in front of the hearth. Cool, golden light streamed in through the tall windows from the low-hanging morning sun, alternately warming the art on the walls and washing out the wood paneling. Somehow it made the room seem more human. The room still had a towering effect, but it was less like a quiet cathedral to winter than it had been the previous evening, and more like a space intended for people. In the daylight, it promised adventures out on the slopes.

Conspicuously absent from the floor next to him was Sam, although a thump in the adjoining kitchen answered Danny's question before he could even think it.

He made his way to the doorway and his eyes were immediately assaulted. While most of the ski lodge was decorated with a distinctly alpine aesthetic, the kitchen looked like it had been pulled straight out of a long-gone era. It was an uneasy marriage of goldenrod paint and dark wood paneling, with a weirdly low drop ceiling and fluorescent lights; Sam looked bizarre and uncomfortable standing at the counter in all black. When she turned to one side, it looked like her scowl was being directed at a patch of paisley wallpaper.

It got a chuckle out of Danny, and Sam jumped, surprised that he was behind her.

"Jeez, Danny, don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry. This room is just hilarious," he said with a grin.

"This room looks like a can filled with the 70s exploded in it," said Sam, seriously.

"This room actually saw Star Wars in theaters."

"This room never heard that disco died."

"This room probably plays golf, but not just to drink beer. Like it actually really enjoys the game, you know?"

Sam cracked up and Danny smiled broadly at her.

"What're you making anyway?"

"Cardamom and peach quinoa porridge. ...Don't make that face, it's ethical _and_ delicious," she said, back to frowning.

"It sure sounds like it's good for you."

Sam shot him another warning look and returned to measuring some kind of milk-alternative into a saucepan. She let a moment pass before asking a tentative question.

"So... Do you want to talk about what happened last night?"

Danny groaned, leaning back against the loud moss-green fridge. "I'd actually rather go back to riffing on how ugly the kitchen is."

" _Danny._ "

"I already told you everything I remember. It was just... Weird."

"Feels like there's a lot of weird stuff stacking up here."

"Well, yeah, but it's still not even half as weird as an average day in Amity Park, right?"

"Yeah, but in Amity Park I'm usually not picking you up off the ground looking like a hypothermia victim. Why didn't you fly back anyway?" Sam paused stirring to look at him seriously.

Danny shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I uh... Don't really remember."

"You don't remember why you didn't fly back?"

"No, I just don't remember much at all. One minute I was in the ski lodge looking at this weird orb thing and the next thing I remember was... I went ghost, and then it was like I was following it..." That didn't sound right to him. Danny frowned, trying to recapture the memory, but it kept drifting out of his grasp like sand through a sieve. "When I saw the lodge again I was already human, then I ran back, I think, and then you know the rest."

Sam had adopted a very worried-looking stance at the stove, now completely ignoring the porridge. "Do you think this ghost messed with your memory or something?"

He threw his hands up. "No idea. I was probably just tired, and I never really remember ghost fights in the middle of the night anyway. It's probably nothing to worry about."

She looked like she wanted very much to argue, but at that moment the front door swung open, followed by the sounds of lively conversation. Danny frantically waved a hand by his neck in a slicing motion, although Sam had already censored herself.

The look in her eyes made it clear to him that this conversation wasn't over.

* * *

Through means even Danny wasn't clear on, Tucker had managed to smuggle more food in without Sam noticing. The four omnivores had bacon and eggs with their porridge, turning it into a strange semi-vegan congee; to Sam's satisfaction, Danny and Valerie both agreed the cardamom and peaches worked strangely well together.

By the time they were all ready to leave, (or in Tucker's case, spend the next few hours practicing Tetris) the sun had already risen as high as it was likely planning to. It cast a clear blue light over the landscape but hung at such a sharp angle that it cast crisp shadows over the wind-beaten snowbanks. The wind had died down and peaceful quiet hung in the air.

Danny felt the quiet deep within himself. As they made their way to the equipment rental shop, near the bottom of a chair lift station, he truly felt alone. Free from the prying eyes of last night. Free of any human voices or laughter, too, in what looked like it could have been a bustling tourist destination just yesterday. The undisturbed snow was the only real sign that dozens of people weren't all just hiding behind a corner waiting to surprise them.

After some delay, Sam opened the door to the rental shop, which took the shape of a small, squat log cabin, but with dated glass and steel windows and doors sunk into the rough logs. It was a strange combination, made stranger by the fact that the inside had been extensively renovated to join their current millennium; Danny had been expecting a room time-locked in 1983, but if you forgave the fact that half the merchandise was still packed away in boxes and the lights were off, it could have been at any other ski hill.

The four of them chatted away while everyone grabbed the equipment they were planning to use (except for Wes, who owned his own snowboard and boots, which he had pointed out three times now to Danny's increasing annoyance), the obvious lack of staff making it a self-serve affair. And then they reached the chairlifts and split up, Val and Wes heading for a much shorter hill with obstacles geared toward snowboarding, while Sam and Danny made their way for the chairlift that led to the black diamond slopes.

"You sure you can handle that?" Wes had asked, eyebrows furrowed when they had explained this plan to him.

"I'm pretty good on my feet," was Danny's only answer.

Although now that he was sitting next to Sam, being hauled skyward once again over rough terrain, he was second-guessing his confidence.

He could be acrobatic in mid-air. Skiing over a bumpy, 50% incline was another thing.

"So," she asked.

"So."

Sam turned around in her seat and checked over her shoulder, just about hitting Danny in the face with her ski poles. Danny leaned around the edge of the chair and saw Wes and Val disappearing around some trees up a much less steep chairlift. When he turned back, Sam was looking directly at him.

She searched his face for a moment and he spent great effort putting on his carefully-schooled impassive expression, which she always saw right through anyway.

Sam sighed and turned to face forward again.

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot or anything, Danny."

"No, I know."

"I'm just worried about you."

"Uh-huh."

She turned to face him again and he stared below their feet. The seat was faintly vibrating as the cable pulled them over the terrain below, snow-covered rocks and miniature cliffs appearing and disappearing out of his view, alternately blending into and standing out from the snow. Without the low winter sun, it would be hard to tell where was safe; on the ungroomed mountain, dangerous drops and crevices could be just about anywhere, the shadows being the only real advanced warning to their presence.

" _Honestly._ "

"Yeah, Sam, really, I know. It's just weird to talk about. I don't know why you're making a big deal out of it, it's not like I've never done something I didn't remember before. It was literally like, 3 am, probably."

"Historically, I haven't been a huge fan of the stuff you've done that you didn't remember later."

He turned to her with a dirty look on his face, but she didn't back down.

"Just saying, Danny."

"This isn't like that. I haven't lost control of myself or whatever you're thinking, it was just a ghost fight that ran later than usual. It's not even the first time I've been too tired to fly back from one either, you're usually just fast asleep across town when they happen."

"And you don't remember them?"

"I mean, how can I even answer that? But I'm sure it's happened."

"And you were shivering."

"It was cold!"

"But _you_ were shivering."

Danny sighed, too, and let a trickle of ectoplasm run down through his arm. Rather than gathering as a glowing orb of flame, spectral ice formed in his palm. The clear blue material rose into a columnar shape out of his hand, little imperfections forming as he was subtly jostled by the vibrations of the chairlift. They formed little nicks and cracks in the structure, with miniature columns splitting off from some of them, some of those spawning offshoots of their own. It was a pleasing little fractal, like a blocky chunk of coral or a part of a snowflake, grown in a few short seconds.

He cut off the flow of ectoplasm and it vanished in a flurry as the gentle wind blew it apart.

"I'm a cold ghost," he said.

"Which is why the shivering is weird, right? Just based on like, _everything_ we know from the Far Frozen, that shouldn't be possible."

"It's hard to say." Danny shrugged. "Frostbite did mention once that another ice-cored ghost could cause like a... Resonance, I think he called it. My cold energy would feed into their cold energy and make it colder, and then they'd be doing the same to me."

He scratched at his face, thinking back on the night prior. Now that he said that, it made sense.

"Y'know, actually, it was a bright blue little ghost, too. I bet it's got an ice core. That's probably all it was."

Sam stayed silent at his side. They passed two more pylons, rocks and trees sweeping past on both sides and below them as the lift entered a particularly winding leg of the route up the hill. They were getting close to the ground now; closer to the very top of the mountain.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as I am about anything."

"...I hope you're right." She turned to face him, a distinctly unsure expression on her face.

Danny grinned at her. "Hey, we've dealt with worse than tiny little ghosts that make me feel a bit cold. We've literally changed the future like, twice. If it was anything _that_ bad, one of us would have gone back in time to stop it, right?"

It was his favorite dumb joke to make before they launched into the unknown. He liked it because it was just dark enough that Sam always found it funny.

She smiled back at him and he knew it had worked this time too. "Ok, fine, I guess we can try to enjoy some skiing. Just try not to alter the space-time continuum too much if it turns out this is all a huge mistake."

He laughed and swung the bar up, hopping off as the chair lift crested the ski hill. They'd arrived.

* * *

The wind whipped through his hair as he leaned forward into the slope. He was building up speed on a straightaway and going fast enough that the front tips of the skis were gliding over the windswept snow with ease. The turns were fun, but on the long corridors, he could relax and enjoy the rare sensations of flight in human form. If he didn't have goggles, his eyes would be watering. It was so fast he felt like he was struggling to breathe.

Sam shouted something at him, laughing, and he chanced a glance backward to see her gaining on him. There was no hope she'd hear a word he said, so he just leaned further into the forward motion, the tall canyon of trees narrowing as he went.

It was exhilarating.

The slope was endless, dropping into deep, unpredictable paths through the forest. The snow suddenly transitioned to heavy powder, deep in the trees where the wind couldn't reach it, and it required most of his concentration to keep on top. He leaned back to stop from sinking straight into it and glided into a series of parallels, just on the edge of losing control. He didn't dare look back to see how Sam was doing.

The long shadow cast by a tall drop wobbled into view as he hit a bumpy set of drifts. Danny leaned back further and to the left, gently deflecting around the obstacle like a river around a boulder. Behind him to his right, he could hear Sam crash over it like a wave, flying through a considerable drop. In a flash of black, she landed in front of him, kicking up a huge cloud of powder he had to swerve to avoid, but he was laughing again.

It was _liberating_ , that was a better word for it.

No ghosts, no words, just speed and untouched snow. The only threats were ones he could ski around.

They both slowed down enough to take a corner without losing it on the deep powder. As it was, Danny could just about feel he was reaching the limits of the resistance the snow was willing to provide, and he took almost the widest arc available; they were both skimming along the edge of what was humanly possible. When he exited the turn he was close enough to the tree line that he could reach out and touch the boughs with his ski poles, if he'd wanted to.

After the turn, the piste widened considerably into a wide, steady slope of hard-packed snow and they both raced ahead. Quite suddenly, Sam signaled to stop, and Danny planted a pole ahead on his left, pulling him into a wide, sweeping turn, shedding considerable speed as he went from ski-chatteringly fast to a graceful series of parallels.

Only when he caught up did Danny realize the "stop" was because they were back at the foot of the mountain.

He broke into a loud, cackling laughter, and Sam looked at him with an expression that was half skeptical and half ungothly joy under bright purple ski goggles.

When Danny composed himself his stomach hurt from the laughter as much as the workout. "I literally can't believe how fast we just went."

"Right? That felt like a _minute_."

"I hope it was longer than that, but _man—_ "

"Yeah, that was insanely dangerous," Sam said, chuckling a little on her own.

" _Crazy_ dangerous. Stupidly dangerous," Danny added, still smiling.

"...Did you see that one jump though? I think I caught 10 feet of air!"

They both broke down laughing again. The adrenaline faded, leaving Danny feeling like he was made partially out of lead, and he had to brace himself on his knees to stay upright. "I definitely needed that," he finally managed.

"I know what you mean," Sam replied, nodding, a grin still entrenched on her face. "It's been too long since we were just..."

"Teenagers?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

They shucked off their skis and made their way back to the lift in contented silence. They were halfway back up to the top before Sam finally turned to him and asked, "want to check out the backcountry?"

Danny looked at her like she really was crazy.

She shrugged. "It was just a thought. If we take it slow it's not like there's even going to be that much of a difference, the actual run was so inconsistent."

"What if we get lost?"

Sam looked at him like _he_ was crazy.

"Then you go ghost and fly us out. It's not like we're going to end up miles away from the ski lodge, we won't die of exposure in less than the time it'd take for us to find it from the air."

Danny shuddered at that. Somehow it felt like a bad idea, but he wasn't going to say that.

She took his silence as agreement anyway.

"I saw an interesting looking trail near that second turn. It almost looked like an old walking path or something. Honestly, it even looked easier than the actual run, but if it gets too bad, we can just turn around. Sound fair?"

"...fine. Yeah, you're right. What's the worst that can happen?"

The worst that can happen turned out to be a trail that abruptly turned from a reasonably gentle 30% slope with lots of room for turns, to a technically complicated trail full of bushes and young trees.

Actually, calling it "a trail" was generous. The path more closely resembled a cliff at certain stages. Or maybe just "a forest" that they happened to be skiing through.

With no room for parallels, they had resorted to a long series of hop turns. Crouch low, spring back up, twist at the core so the skis flipped the other way around, and make sure to plant a ski pole on the downslope to brace the upper body at the same time the skis planted on a steep angle deep in the snow. Then, pivot and do it all the other way around without losing momentum.

Danny was pretty sure they were dropping farther than they were moving forward, which was a first for him.

And they had to do it again and again, with perfect timing on every movement. If they didn't, they'd slide straight into a tree, or fall over and snap an ankle.

Without the supernatural chill of the previous day, Danny was burning up in his blue and green snowsuit, and his legs were exhausted. When they finally reached a clearing at the end of the sharp downhill section, he _really_ wanted to say how he had told Sam this was a bad idea, but on reflection, he hadn't actually said so. And besides, she looked to be in an equally foul mood.

He compromised by taking his skis off and laying down in the snow, instead of saying anything at all.

It was cold against his back, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling. The sun on his face was annoyingly warm and he could feel beads of sweat running down the sides of his face; it had already soaked the strap on the goggles and his bangs, which were plastered at odd angles across his forehead.

But still. The cold was nice. He must have either spent too long lying down or been too audible in his enjoyment, because he heard a chuckle, and suddenly something was blocking out the sun.

Danny opened his eyes and Sam was looking down at him, bemused and far less sweaty. "I guess you're back to overheating like usual?"

"Guess so. The snow is really nice, you should try it."

She snorted. "I'll pass. Are you almost ready to get going again?"

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut again and splaying out further in the snow.

"Come on, unless I've gotten turned around – and I never get turned around – I'm pretty sure that after this next turn we're going to link back up with the trail. We're really not all that far off."

Danny raised his arms out in front of (or more accurately, above) him.

"...seriously?"

He opened his eyes, staring at her solemnly, and nodded.

"Fine." Sam leaned over and grabbed his hands, hefting him up to his feet. "Happy?"

" _Very,_ " he replied. It beat 'I told you so' any day.

He clipped his skis back on and they continued along the disused path, which had flattened out until it was barely a downhill slope. After a gentle turn, they crested a small hill and rode down into another clearing, shielded on all sides by tall, dense tree cover. There was only one way in, and one way out, but what was really remarkable was what was between it all; Sam and Danny both came to a quick hockey stop, caught off-guard by the sight.

It was the snow-covered ruin of an old wood-frame church, white paint still visible on some of the more intact walls. It was hard to tell since the roof had partially collapsed, taking the back half of the building with it, but it looked to have been a reasonably modest-sized building. The steeple and bell were the only real hint as to its purpose if you discounted the arched windows, which stood naked of any panes.

A wind rustled through the trees, but Danny didn't see any branches moving.

The church looked out of place. It was built on an angle, and the front foundation was far too high above the ground. Hadn't anyone noticed? It was like the ground was trying to shake it off, frozen in the middle of a massive bucking motion meant to dislodge it. And where were they anyway? The middle of nowhere. ...Where was _she_? Sam was missing.

Danny tore his eyes away from the building and his peripheral vision started working again. Sam was still at his side.

"Cool building. I guess we must be over some kind of property line?" she asked nobody in particular.

Sam's voice sounded weird. It was like they were in a small room, anechoic, almost like the walls were too close, and closing in. But they were outside. But the sound wasn't right. Danny's head was on a swivel, trying to find the source of the rustling that was the only real sound he could hear. It didn't sound like Sam's voice had. Was he hearing it or feeling it?

He jumped and nearly fell over on his skis; a hand touched him on the shoulder and he followed it back to its owner. Sam was looking at him brightly. Her lips were moving but he couldn't hear a damn thing over that _rustling_ , shifting, moving sound. He couldn't look at her, he needed to keep on the lookout for... The building was staring at him and he locked eyes with it. _It was pulling on him. Inviting him inside._

It was pushing on him, repelling him away. There is nothing worthwhile here. Don't go any further.

_Welcome, please, do come in. Stay._

The hand on his shoulder was shaking him roughly. Danny managed to look away from the building and back at Sam's goggled face.

It was like a valve had been opened, and suddenly the pressure faded, sound returning in an instant rush. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest. His hands found their way to her side and he clung on like she was a life preserver, choking for air.

" _Whoa!_ Uh, are you ok Danny?"

"Sam..." He stumbled for a moment before the words started heaving their way out of his throat between rapid breaths. "Sam, we've got to get away from that thing."

She looked confused, and the colors shifted as her free hand pulled the goggles off his face. "God, you look exhausted. Seriously, are you ok?"

"I'm ok, I'm ok, we just need to... We need to go."

"We can do that. I'm getting pretty tired too. Maybe let's stick to the green slopes for a bit. Something nice and easy, how's that sound?"

He nodded in agreement and they exchanged brave smiles. Despite any exhaustion, they exited the clearing quicker than they had entered.

* * *

Danny made a quick recovery once they were at the bottom of the run, but for the next few hours, they stuck to some of the gentler slopes on the far side of the resort. Most of the thrill, but it was easier to stay in control. Privately, he wasn't sure his nerves could have taken another black diamond.

The shadows grew long quickly as the sun swung low through the sky, lighting the wispy, icy clouds in hues of orange and pink. The same golden light of dawn lit their way back to the rental shop, where they carefully re-racked the equipment they'd borrowed.

And then, they were back inside the ski lodge.

"Tucker, what the _hell_ were you doing in here?"

"...I got bored, alright?"

From Sam's question, Danny had a bad feeling long before he got his windbreaker off. When he made it up the stairs, he realized Tucker had gotten bored of digital Tetris and stacked all the cafe tables and chairs in the room into a pyramid that reached most of the way to the rafters. The only furniture in the great room that was spared was the couches and tables they'd been using yesterday; everything else had become a part of Tucker's monument to weight distribution and precision. It was actually sort of impressive.

"Nice one, Tuck," Danny said, nodding approvingly, "but how'd you get the tables up there? They look like they weigh a hundred pounds."

" _Pure. Skill._ " Tucker pretended to brush some dirt off his shoulder with a smug grin. "And also they're made from aluminum, they're like thirty or forty max."

Sam was just shaking her head. "You're definitely coming skiing with us tomorrow. Non-negotiable. ...and aren't you afraid of heights or something?"

"Pfft, no, you're definitely thinking of West—" The front door slammed open and Tucker cut off his sentence. He cleared his throat and called out toward the entryway. "Uh, hey Val, hey Wes, welcome back."

"Yo!" came Val's reply. "You missed out Foley, it was perfect out there."

"No kidding!" Wes added, although Danny had trouble recognizing the voice. It was cheerful. "You should have seen this dude throwing backflips like _nothing_. And you've seriously never tried anything like that before?"

Valerie laughed. "Not on a _snowboard_ , anyway." There was a clunk of boots being dropped and sudden silence. Danny spared a glance at Sam and Tucker. Could they get Val out of this if Wes asked questions?

Fortunately, he didn't seem to really notice what she'd said. "Well then I need to know your workout routine, you've got killer core strength. I bet you could do a _sick_ tamedog to—"

The redhead abruptly stopped speaking, fully distracted as he'd reached the top of the stairs and saw the furniture pile. The smile ran off his face and he had the look of a guy who desperately wants to ask some questions but didn't really know where to start.

The number of conversations he wanted to avoid having was stacking up at an alarming rate, and Danny said the only thing he could think of.

"So, who's hungry?"

It was a bit early, but everyone agreed almost at once.

For dinner, they had green pea fritters with lentil curry (and leftover hotdogs), and Danny packed away enough food to feed a horse. He was ravenous after spending all day on his skis, although he didn't really notice it until he attracted a weird look from Wes across the table.

Danny was big enough to admit he didn't particularly like the jock. Especially when he produced a 6-pack of beers and suggested "Never Have I Ever", which everyone else promptly turned down. Then again, he probably couldn't have picked 4 worse juniors at their school to ask. They had more secrets to keep than the rest of their class put together.

As the sun tracked lower and lower, the feeling of being watched slowly returned. It started off as a trickle, but as the glow of twilight faded, it became a torrent, like the eyes were pouring out from the forest.

The unseen watchers were getting braver. Danny didn't particularly like that.

He completely missed three direct questions aimed at him before he just gave up, grabbed his jacket, and headed out onto the deck.

And he probably made it another hour before he heard the door open behind him again.

The surprise was who had opened it when he turned to check.

"Valerie? What's up?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm here to make sure you don't fall off the balcony again."

He rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the woods. "Thanks, love the vote of confidence."

She leaned on the railing next to him, also peering out into the dark. Her eyes were searching just as his own were, although without some of his advantages. Danny realized she was probably just uncomfortable in her "civilian" clothing as he was in human form. He'd already painfully found out that her visor had night vision.

She glanced to the side for a second and caught him staring. "So you can feel it too, huh Fenton?"

"...Feel what?"

Val turned to face him with a skeptical look in her eye, peering over his face. It wasn't pleasant feeling like he was under two different microscopes, but fortunately, Valerie found what she was looking for quickly and turned back to the forest with a huff. "Don't bother telling me you're out here for shits and grins. Feels like something's out there, doesn't it?"

Danny thought about it for a moment but realized lying really would be pointless. "Yeah. I feel it. What do you think it is?"

She shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe..."

They both let the sentence hang in the air for a moment. The wind was picking up again, the stars in the sky disappearing under a rolling wave of clouds that were moving in. The forecast hadn't said anything about a storm on Saturday night, but they hadn't had a chance to check since they left Amity Park on Friday morning. Maybe they really were just clouds. Maybe...

"It could be ghosts, I guess."

This felt like a dangerous conversation. As easy as breathing, Danny tried to deflect. "This far from Amity Park? You think so?"

"What do you think? You would know, right?"

His heart skipped a couple of beats before he realized she was talking about his parents.

A moment later, when he had gathered himself, he shrugged a very innocent Danny Fenton shrug. "Dunno. I don't really pay much attention to ghost stuff. My parents make it lame, you know?"

"Hmm." Valerie started drumming her fingers on the railing next to him. "I guess it's a little strange for them to be this far out. But I, uh, can kind of feel them when they're around."

He didn't say anything and her drumming intensified.

"It's not weird, right? It's just—"

"No, totally, I kind of have the same thing actually. I guess. We're both here anyway." He managed to smile at her like they weren't a couple of exes having an awkward conversation at the edge of a party.

She nodded. "Yeah. We both live in Amity Park, I guess we're just more attuned to them or whatever."

"We've been in all those ghost attacks," he offered with a sweeping gesture.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Yeah."

She looked at him like she wanted to say more. Danny wondered if it was... _That_ . He'd known for over a year about her double identity as the Red Huntress, Amity Park's most formidable ghost hunter. 'Val the Impaler', as Sam called her. But it would have been nice to hear it from Valerie . Did she think he'd be able to keep her secret? They'd dated for months, surely she knew he could keep secrets. The fact that he'd _clearly_ been keeping something from her was a big reason they didn't work out.

The fact that she'd never told him was the other big one. But he couldn't complain. Glass houses.

The moment passed and Valerie turned back to the forest.

They stayed there, watching in silence until Sam came out to say Tucker and Wes were turning in early, and Val finally tore herself away from her post with a "Later, Fenton."

When everyone had left, Sam immediately punched him in the shoulder. Not hard, exactly, but not _not_ hard.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"You've been acting like a crazed guard dog two nights in a row. I've never seen you like this before, not for this long anyway. What's going on, Danny?"

She looked uncomfortable. He _felt_ uncomfortable. Had he been so obvious?

"Sorry, Sam, I must seem really weird right now. Weirder than normal."

"Hey, don't apologize. It's all part of your charm. I just don't like it when you don't tell us important things. And whatever this is," she vaguely gestured at him, "it seems important."

He slumped back on a sofa, his forearms on his knees. "I just don't get it. I've never felt like this before. It's like there's something _off_ out in the woods, but only at night. And it's not triggering my ghost sense, so is it not a ghost? But then again that tiny ball of light didn't either, so are they just too weak for me to notice? It's just... Confusing, I guess."

She took a seat next to him and lay a comforting hand on his upper back. "Nobody's saying you've got to figure it all out. But hey, Frostbite explained your ghost sense to you, right? Maybe it's worth a trip to the Far Frozen when we get back to Amity Park."

"Maybe. Even though it's only happening here. I wish it would just _stop_ , it's seriously exhausting."

She chuckled and switched to rubbing the spot just below his neck. He sighed and leaned into her side. It was confusing. He was glad Sam and Tucker were here.

The last two years had been full of scrapes and close shaves of all sizes. Sometimes he felt like he was just on the edge of completely losing it, barely managing to hold it together. Trying to stay in control of himself and his city against what felt like a rising tide of ghosts. His friends were the only reason he'd made it through with his sanity; whether they were actually in the fight or not, they were the real backbone of "Team Phantom". Especially since— Wait, what had Sam said?

His eyes snapped opened and he glanced sidelong at her. "Did you say I was charming?"

She laughed and pushed him down onto the sofa cushions, throwing a heavy knit blanket over him before he could protest.

"Took you long enough. It's been a long day, ghost boy. Get some rest, we'll worry about everything else in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know almost nothing about skiing and even less about snowboarding, so this was interesting to write. Shout-out to REI for the research material. Is it possible to write about black diamonds and skiing off-piste when you personally stick to green runs (or better yet, staying inside all winter)? Who knows. Advanced skiers, let me know if I hit the mark.
> 
> I don't love how much connective tissue this chapter has after splitting it off of chapter 2, but that's life. I think things will be smoother from here.


	4. Baby Please Come Home

Danny struggled to sit upright; there was something weighing him down.

Instead, he came back to awareness lying back on the couch, staring straight up at the dark rafters of the ski lodge roof. The wind was howling again, battering loose window panes in their frames, although the room wasn't particularly cold this time. Dregs of logs were still crackling in the fireplace, but this went deeper than that. Besides the cold, there was another absence, one he felt in all the distant corners of his mind. It set him on edge.

There was no hostile, distant gaze on him, nothing raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The ski lodge felt calm. Secluded. A warm bastion against the wind chill outside. Everything was how it was supposed to be. Or in other words, everything it hadn't been. After two days, the sudden normalcy was as disturbing as _t_ _hey_ had been.

What had happened to the late-night watchers?

He glanced around, taking in the windows, but he couldn't see much outside from his low vantage. Danny sighed, resigning himself to another check of the room to find whatever had awoken him. Which meant getting up and walking around, away from the warmth. The warmth that was pinning him to the couch.

Confused, he looked down.

And he stopped breathing.

Sam Manson had fallen asleep on top of him. Which was a lot to take in.

Not that it meant anything. It was probably an innocent mistake. They were both exhausted. Don't read too much into it, Fenton.

But he was definitely never going to mention that this had happened if she didn't.

Which created the problem of actually extricating himself from the sofa without waking her up. He tried to slide out from under her, but she shifted in her sleep and every muscle in his body seized up, trying to stay as still as possible (in a particularly uncomfortable position) until he was sure she was fully asleep again.

He was going to have to use ghost powers, wasn't he? But...

Danny glanced from side to side again, as best he could. They really were alone in here. Or at least free of the watchers, his brain helpfully reminded him. Whatever had woken him up could still be in the room too.

After some very careful intangibility, he slipped out through the cushions and out through the backrest. Sam shifted a bit again before settling in like nothing had happened, but he couldn't afford to celebrate his victory. The urge to check every nook and cranny was overwhelming, one he could only hold off long enough to throw a few more logs on the fire, more for Sam's sake than his own.

A flicker of blue in the dull orange light caught his eye.

He froze as it bobbed in the air above the base of the stairs, buffeted by some unfelt air current. It wasn't doing anything overtly hostile. The watching feeling hadn't returned with its presence. He would let it... Make the first move.

The weirdest feeling of deja vu washed over him as a wave of adrenaline and Danny shivered, entirely unrelated to the warmth radiating from the fireplace. The tingle ran from his shoulders to his ankles. When he'd recovered, the little orb drew back, waiting above the first step. It seemed to read the confusion on his face for a moment before slowly floating up the stairs. When it made it to the top, it didn't pause, and he lost sight of it down a darkened hallway.

There was a very real moment of hesitation where he wasn't sure if he wanted to follow it, leaving Sam alone, asleep and defenseless. He should just wake her up and they'd track it together.

He glanced at her. Still fast asleep.

And then he made his way to the staircase.

They'd all been avoiding it. There was nothing worth seeing up there but gross old bedrooms, apparently, and the rustic-styled stairs didn't _look_ as sturdy as they probably were. Danny had a vague memory of Sam talking about a building inspector going through the place, but if he couldn't float in a pinch, he probably wouldn't have chanced it.

At least three months' worth of dust sat on the treads and gritted under Danny's hand on the railing. He walked carefully, testing each step for any squeaks, even if he rarely had that problem now. Not after years of practice.

Beyond the alpine look of the catwalk and railing – the part visible from below – the upstairs more closely resembled the 1970s rec room aesthetic of the kitchen, the dark wood paneling suggesting that a very ill-advised renovation had occurred maybe 35 years prior. Danny pressed his hand against the first few numbered doors, feeling for cold spots, and finding none.

Then he rounded a corner and realized he'd probably found the one he was looking for.

This section wasn't benefiting from the firelight, and the needle-thin crescent moon was either hiding behind the clouds or had already slipped below the horizon, casting no light through the window at the far end of the hallway. Instead, yellowish light slipped through a crack under a door, spilling out across the floor like a wedge. Danny walked quietly, his socks sinking into the forest green shag carpet, hoping to maintain the element of surprise.

Whatever was in the house didn't seem to share his caution. There was a pop and a low hissing sound before a jaunty Christmas song crackled to life over terrible speakers; a jazz crooner was belting out Deck the Halls at a volume that would have drowned out his footsteps even if he were stomping.

He thought back to Sam asleep on the couch and panicked a bit, making it across the hallway and to the door in a series of quick bounds. Without a thought spared to strategy, he jerked the doorknob around and leaped into the room.

The light and music assaulted him, so much brighter on this side of the door. It was meant to be a bedroom, that much was certain. A pair of wall sconces lit the room from either side of a wide bed with messy mustard yellow sheets, and a squat white dresser took up half the far wall. But the rest of the room's slick midcentury furnishings were in a state of disarray. An empty suitcase lay open and forgotten on the bench at the foot of the bed. Stacks of books and papers littered the room and covered half the floor. Most of the wall near the desk had been given over to bulletin boards covered in neatly trimmed paper, photos, and yarn strung between thumbtacks. Some of the tacks had fallen loose and now dangled uselessly above the paper detritus they had once held up. It looked like somebody had left in a hurry like they might be back at any moment.

Only the thick dust and occasional cobweb told otherwise.

With a frown, Danny weaved his way around the garbage on the floor to a knee-height cabinet record player. The lid was up and he pulled the needle off the vinyl, which slowly rotated to a stop.

Most of the top of the cabinet had been given over to storing stacks of old newspapers, but on top of them all sat the sleeve the record presumably belonged in.

Danny picked it up, checking the title.

It matched the record on the player.

It was also the only thing in the room not covered with dust, and upon inspection, he was fairly certain it was the exact same album Sam had been playing the previous night. So how did it get here? Or, taking the obvious guess as to "how", _why_ was it here? What had prompted the orb—

Danny dropped the album cover and wheeled around, suddenly taking in the whole of the room, examining every nook, cranny, or little dark corner where an ambush could come from. The orb was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn't feel even the slightest tingle of his ghost sense within his chest.

When his heartbeat stilled, he realized the only sounds in the room were him breathing and the steady hum from the record player. He glanced back just long enough to shut it off with a click and the hum faded to silence, which left just him, staring wildly around a completely empty room.

Minutes later, when nothing had flown at him or attacked him, he finally relaxed a bit. He turned a more analytical eye to the contents of the room.

The construction above the desk was an actual conspiracy theorist pinboard. Danny never thought he'd see one in real life. You had to be insane to make one of these, right? He followed a stray yarn back to a topographical map of the area, but a side effect of not being a crazy survivalist was that it was a meaningless bunch of squiggles to him. Most of the rest was made up of brittle newspaper clippings, glossy sepia-toned photos of Kiljoy Falls, and black and white copies taken from books on yellowing paper.

His eyes glazed over a bit. It was a mess of pins, yarn, and more hours of work than he could easily fathom. Words like "Disappearance" and "Hopeless" rang out over and over. Somebody had been looking for something, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off he was half asleep again. Or maybe he just wasn't the requisite level of crazy.

He looked down at the desk itself. It was partially cleared off, but that too had been done in a hurry. There were stray paper scraps and crumpled up notes sitting everywhere, including on the floor around it. Front and center, perfectly in the light of a space-age silver lamp, was a heavy bound, untitled book that looked like it had been last shut _firmly_. A fountain pen had been slammed down on top of it and left a splatter of ink across the cover.

From the decades of dust sitting on it, that had been a while ago too.

Danny carefully plucked the pen off the book and reached to open it, when another chill ran up his spine.

_TAKE._

Take what? He whirled around looking for the source of the... Voice?, clutching the fountain pen in his hand. He couldn't seem to put it down. Was he taking this? Why? No, that was wrong, he wasn't supposed to take that, he was supposed to...

There was a shout somewhere in the lodge. He couldn't hear it over the ringing in his ears. When had his ears started wringing? No, not wringing, ringing. No wringing, only taking. Taking what?

Who shouted?

He was confused. It was a strange order. He flipped over a stack of paper looking behind it for his target, but there was nothing there either. He flipped over most of the room. The bed was on its side. When had that happened? There was broken glass. Why was he so _cold_? The warmth had left him. The heavy warmth.

Shit, _Sam_.

He ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, then ran out into the hallway from the bedroom— no, no, he ran out into the hallway and then jumped over the... No, hallway, then down the stairs, then he jumped... The floor rushed up at him.

* * *

Danny sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, his heart hammering in his chest. _That_ had been an intense dream. He was slick with sweat in a cold room.

He eased himself up off the rug that sat near the hearth of the fire, which had burned down to embers. In the dream, he had just put another log on. He smiled a bit; he must have been cold in his sleep, too. The wind outside was calm, but of course, the night didn't need to be howling to be chilly. Fat, puffy flakes were fluttering down outside the window.

Adding a couple of logs in the middle of the night was probably overkill, but he didn't want Sam to wake up too. She was breathing so quietly.

Almost too quietly. Danny turned around.

Sam wasn't on the couch.

A knot formed in his stomach. Was she already awake? It was way too dark to be up already. A glance at his watch told him it was only 1:43 am.

"Sam?"

The crackling of a renewed flame overtaking the logs was his only answer.

He tried again, a bit louder. "Sam, are you awake?"

No reply.

The light switch was across the room. Tucker's furniture tower had collapsed and Danny had to weave his way through the tables and chairs that were strewn across half the room. He must not have heard it collapse in his sleep. With the aid of electrical lights, he could definitively say that she wasn't just in a very deep sleep in an obscure corner of the room.

Next, he checked through the kitchen and dining room, still finding nothing. No sign of her. No response when he called.

He had a sinking feeling as he took to the stairs. The dust on them had been recently disturbed, but it didn't look like Sam's combat boots. He checked guest rooms 1 through 9 and both bathrooms until the sinking feeling was more like a pit deep in his stomach, and he arrived in front of a door without a number on it.

It was locked.

He threw himself into it with a heavy grunt, shearing it straight off the hinges.

The room was larger and slightly better appointed than the others, but there was no sign of her in there either.

The door to the last room, at the very end of the hallway, was already open.

The lights were on and the place was trashed. He'd been there before.

He knew he'd been there before, he'd been the one who did this. But he didn't remember any of it. How could he know that? And he'd left to—

Danny collapsed to the hallway floor, landing on the soft carpet, before scrambling backward until his back hit the opposite wall. It hadn't been a dream.

That meant...

Seconds later, he was down the stairs and out the front door.

"SAM!" Danny called out into the night, running awkwardly through snow above his ankles. The courtyard in front of Red House Ski Lodge looked the same as ever. Snowdrifts, unkempt ornamental trees, dark lamp posts. The layer of fresh powder had already covered the footsteps from everyone leaving toward their cabins, and any signs there may have been of a struggle.

Assuming she hadn't been spirited away in the air.

The dark forest beyond was a milky, gray blur with his night vision, punctuated by unmoving black trees. He scanned for any sign of movement, jogging around the ski lodge as he went. No sign anywhere, not in the snow, not in the trees.

It was getting colder and colder outside. She could die out here. He'd lost Sam and he was going to lose the others if he didn't— Wait, _Tucker_. He should have woken up Tucker.

He was panicking. Just breathe, calm down, think this through. Doing the first stupid thing that came into his head wasn't going to get Sam back.

Danny braced himself on his knees for a moment. He let his breathing steady and realized two things; he wasn't wearing shoes, and he could feel something watching him. Neither of those was very good.

He glanced out into the milky gray blur just in time to catch movement disappearing behind a tree.

By the time he'd trudged his way over to Tucker's cabin, there were a few somethings in the trees, always at the corner of his eye. The watchers were coming out again; if he looked quickly he could catch shapes twisting around tree trunks and over boughs, peering out at him until they caught his gaze, then hiding. They seemed to be keeping their distance, but it was like they were dragging down the temperature with them and soon he was constantly shivering, out in a snowstorm without a coat or boots.

His arms were sluggish as he knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Danny bit back a curse. There was no time to wait for Tucker, the cold was pressing in on him. He fumbled the doorknob open with gloveless hands, heard a click, and leaned into it with all his body weight, just as it was pulled open from within.

They fell in a pile onto the floor, Tucker rubbing the back of his head. Danny clumsily rolled to the side and kicked the door shut behind him, sealing out the snow and cold. He collapsed back in relief.

The floor was wonderfully warm. His whole body was greedily sucking the heat out of the floorboards, but he couldn't afford to stay there. He dragged himself up to a half-seated position, leaning back on his arms. Tucker blearily lifted himself up to face him.

He seemed to guess something was wrong from Danny's expression and visibly seemed to wake up a bit. "What's wrong dude?"

"Sa..." Danny's tongue felt wrong in his mouth. He choked the words out of his numb face. "Sam's missing."

That definitely got Tucker awake. He fumbled his way to his feet, looking outside the window as if to confirm just what that meant. "It's way late. And snowing."

"I know, there's no way she went for a walk in—."

"Wait, what were you doing out in that? You crazy— Your lips are _blue_!" Tucker disappeared around a door and Danny slowly tried to get up on his feet. By the time he'd ascended, he had another blanket thrown at his head. "Wrap up in this. Start at the start."

But that was the problem. He didn't know the start. When Danny didn't move to reply, Tucker asked the only other question he could.

"What happened?"

Danny really wished he hadn't asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 4: The One Where Danny Is Panicking Almost The Entire Time. I wrote part of this while watching Anderson Cooper get progressively more drunk with Andy Cohen on national television. It was a fittingly shambolic sendoff to the year, and maybe some of that energy landed on the page.


	5. Heard on High

Tucker made a quick trip to the ski lodge to grab Danny's coat and boots, and the pair of them made a thorough sweep of the Red House grounds; at Danny's strong insistence, never separating from the other.

He was the one who could see what was lurking beyond the treeline.

And Tucker didn't need to know what he saw.

It felt futile, looking for footprints in the thick snow. They were holding out hope for some other sign of Sam, like a hair tie or a bracelet that fell loose in the struggle. Danny's cover story for why he kept looking out into the trees was that he was inspecting for any signs of a struggle, like nail marks in the bark. In reality, he spent more time trying to watch the watchers than actually looking for Sam. The feeling they gave him, silently stalking them around the yard, was like a drill bit in his mind, and an icicle in his chest.

Actually, that was all they did– watch as Tucker and Danny went around in circles. Danny was almost grateful for that. With the two of them together, it seemed like maybe none of the... Ghosts? Spirits? Wraiths? would be bold enough to attack them.

But that was enough of a "maybe" that a cloying sense of unease never went away, lodged in his mind right next to the supernatural chill.

And not that his friend believed it, but the worst part of the night was the rude wake-up. So if he was having trouble keeping Tucker's crazy, winding search pattern, it just meant they needed to go a little slower. He wasn't cold.

Tucker wasn't buying it. "Danny, you got like four hours, right? That's a _good_ night in Amity Park for you, isn't it? You wouldn't be dragging your ass if you were just tired."

He looked serious. It was usually bad for Danny when Tucker got serious. "Yeah, normally I'm not trying to rest off a huge ski trip in Amity Park. Seriously, I'm—" His body betrayed him with a mix between a shiver and a full-body spasm that almost had him doubled over.

"Yeah, no. We're going inside. You're going to drink a coffee and sit next to a fire until you can walk straight again, and then we'll search some more." Tucker grabbed him around the arm and started pulling him away from the search. Danny made a token effort to resist, but Tucker turned on him with an intense look in his eye. "No arguments. You're no good to Sam frozen in a snowbank. Got it?"

Danny grumbled the entire way back to the front courtyard when it became clear he could either go along or be toppled over onto his side, where they were unexpectedly met by Valerie and Wes. She looked as alert as ever, although with bed hair and a deeper frown than usual. For his part, Wes was unsteady on his feet and could barely keep his eyes open, so Valerie did the talking.

"We heard shouting. What are you doing up? And out here?" She looked appraisingly at Danny, who was now leaning on Tucker for support. "And why does Fenton look like he got hit by a bus?"

"Sam's missing. We've been out searching for her, but it's way too cold outside—" Tucker began, but Valerie cut him off with a scoff.

"Damn right it is, especially for that windbreaker. Come on, we're going inside, let's talk this out."

"That was the plan..." Danny managed, but he didn't have the energy to be sarcastic.

When they were inside, Tucker deposited Danny near the fire and threw a few more logs on, as Wes collapsed back into the sofa. Valerie was pacing, only sparing a glance to look at the collapsed furniture tower. When she turned back to them, she had a calculating expression that made Danny nervous. It was always hard to tell what she was thinking, but from experience, it probably wasn't great news for him.

"Pretty dumb idea going out into a blizzard wearing that thin jacket, Fenton."

Danny sighed. It had been a long time since Val had gotten in a proper what-were-you-thinking. It was like slipping on a comfortable pair of shoes for the two of them. "Yeah, I guess it was. I had some other stuff on my mind, like Sam going missing in the middle of the night."

"Is she even actually missing?" Wes's voice was croaky with tiredness, and he inched forward on the couch with obvious effort. "Maybe she just went for a walk."

"What, at 1 am?"

"I dunno Dan, maybe it's supposed to be a spooky goth walk?"

"Wes, if you want to be shitty, how about you go do it back in your own cabin?" Danny was on his feet, but it was hard to be intimidating with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It was taking just about every ounce of willpower he could muster to not leap over the coffee table. From the way Wesley seemed to wake up a bit, straightening in his seat, it looked like he was half expecting it.

"Easy dude, I'm not the one who—"

"Ok, cut it out, both of you!" Valerie shouted, coming between them. She actually put a hand on his chest, although her stare was directed firmly at Wes. "Something clearly went down in here, and I'm guessing it must have been serious for Fenton to under-dress for a snowstorm. Am I wrong?" Valerie turned to him with a steady, concentrated expression on her face. It was how she looked when she was about to launch into battle. All business, no time for anyone's nonsense. Danny thought he should feel grateful, considering she seemed to be sorting Wes into the 'nonsense' category.

Maybe she wasn't exactly backing him up, but he'd take what he could get. Danny took a steady breath and tried to seem more composed than he was feeling.

"I was asleep when it happened," he lied, but there was really no time to explain the truth, "but yeah. I don't think she left willingly."

"How about you fill me in on what you do know, Fenton?"

The fire was getting hot at his back, but not in a way that warmed up the chill in his bones. He was just hot and cold at the same time, like a marshmallow that had caught flame, black and blistered on one side. Danny readjusted his blanket and moodily set himself down on a lodge-patterned armchair that creaked under the exertion.

"I don't know much. I was asleep and I think I woke up to a scream. I... Then I heard a noise upstairs, so I went and checked out a bedroom, but there was nothing in there. And when I came back down here the furniture was messed up." He made eye contact with Tucker, who was sitting in a chair opposite him. His expression was concerned, silently questioning if lying was the best idea. Danny responded by looking down at the armrest and picking at a loose thread that had sprouted out of a blocky white mountain.

And to be fair, he might be right to question it. Danny hadn't exactly told Tucker the truth as he remembered it, either, which meant there were three lies now; what he was telling Wes and Valerie, what he had told Tucker, and what he remembered. With any luck, it wouldn't matter. Only the end of the story was important right now.

"When I realized Sam was missing, I went outside and tried calling for her, then Tucker and I searched the grounds."

Danny did his best to maintain eye contact with Valerie through the end of the story, ignoring the loose thread on the mountain. She considered him for a moment before shaking her head with a sigh. "Am I going to have to be the one to point out the obvious?"

Behind her, Tucker was staring wide-eyed at Danny. Wes mostly just looked confused.

"What's obvious?" Danny tried to play it cool, but an edge crept into his voice.

"Come on. It's gotta be ghosts, right?"

An uneasy silence filled the room.

The "G" word had been used again.

Wes didn't look convinced. Probably the only thing stopping him from responding was the fact that Valerie had just finished shouting at him, or maybe just the fact that he still looked half asleep. The only thing stopping Danny and Tucker was common sense. They exchanged an awkward glance around Val that she unfortunately noticed.

She threw up her hands. "Come on, we were all thinking it. And you said it yourself Fenton, there's something out in those woods."

All eyes were on him. That was nothing new, with the watchers outside were still making their presence known. But it was disconcerting how Wes seemed to come alive a little bit, he and Val looking at him expectantly. Danny tried his best to become one with the cushions on the chair, drawing his legs up under the blanket.

When Danny didn't say anything, Tucker cleared his throat nervously and began a sentence with a little chuckle. "What would... 'Ghosts'," Tucker used air quotes for effect, "be doing this far away from Amity Park?"

Nobody bought it. That was clear. Maybe if they hadn't been from Amity Park it might have worked, but Wes didn't even look away from Danny, just narrowing his eyes as his silence grew.

Danny sighed. "It's fine, Tucker, they should know..." He brought his hands up over his face, trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. And screw how suspicious it made him look, he left them there; he didn't want to make eye contact with Wes right now. "You're right Val, it's got to be ghosts. It was stupid to think they wouldn't... Be a problem."

"Wait, you _knew_ there were ghosts here?" Wes interjected. He didn't sound happy. "How long have you known exactly?"

"I had a feeling when we got into town."

"And what, you didn't feel the need to tell us?"

"I—"

"Why are they attacking now? Why Sam and not you? Or both of you? Or one of us?"

Danny dropped his hands so he could glare at Wes, who he found was glaring at him. "You wanna give me two seconds to answer your questions or do you like hearing yourself talk too much?"

Wes stood up like a shot. He was lanky but taller than anyone else in the room. Danny took the threat as it was intended and stood to face him, fists at his sides.

"Hey, assholes!" Valerie was back between them. "What did I just say? Cut this shit out, we don't have time for it. Weston, go upstairs, you and me are going to figure out what was happening up there."

Danny frowned. "I think it was trying to lure me away from Sam."

"Of course, ghosts are natural cowards," and it took every ounce of restraint Danny had left to not react to that, "they wouldn't want to fight two humans at once. And _you_ , Fenton, Foley, grab whatever gear you packed and get ready to hunt down this scum."

"What makes you—" Danny began.

"Are you about to tell me that Jack and Maddie Fenton let you leave town without packing ghost hunting gear?"

Her expression indicated she wouldn't believe him if he tried.

"...Fine. Yeah, we brought some stuff."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Fenton's packing?" Wes interjected, "and Valerie, how the hell do you know all this?"

That caught her off guard, but to her credit, she recovered quickly. "I pay attention to what the Fentons say in those ghost safety assemblies. I really recommend trying it some time. Now let's go, we don't have all night."

She dragged Wes the first few steps toward the stairs before he started walking willingly, pausing for just long enough to shoot Danny one last distrustful glare, which he happily returned.

When they had disappeared around a corner and some of the bravado had leaked out of him, Danny fell back into the armchair. Tucker let out a long breath. "Man. She's good at that, huh?"

Danny chuckled, somehow. "She's terrifying."

"Whatever works. ...Hey, uh, not to dwell on that whole..." Tucker vaguely motioned between Danny and where Valerie had just gone upstairs, "thing, but did you mean what you said? Do you really think the orb thing was trying to distract you?"

Did he think that?

The night was a fog, as thick as the distant forest. His second encounter with the pale blue orb was hardly accessible to him. He could recall events in a haze. The staircase, the record player, the doors, the hallway, but when he tried to grasp at details or even the order in which things had happened, they slipped and slid over each other like a pit of vipers.

But it had taken him away from his position. Drew him away from Sam, left her vulnerable. At a minimum, it was stalking her and had been since last night. So what else could it have been doing? Hadn't it hurt him? Had it hurt him? That memory was already long gone, lost to the fog, but a feeling of pain lingered in its place, as sharp as the scent of pine.

"I don't think it's friendly."

If Tucker noticed that wasn't quite a direct answer, he at least didn't bring it up. "You reckon it only hunts people who are alone?"

Danny shrugged. "It'd make sense. Val was hurtfully accurate, I don't think these ghosts are interested in going after us when we're paired off."

"Then why didn't it come after us alone in our cabins? Or even me, when I was sitting in here all day?"

He rubbed his eyes again. It was either tiredness or dry air. "I don't know, Tucker, I'm really flying blind here. But Val's right—"

"'Course I'm right." The voice came from the top of the stairs, and when Danny turned to look, he caught a face-full of cloth. "I grabbed you something a bit warmer than that windbreaker."

Danny held it at arm's length. It had at one point been a soft, gray sweater. Probably. "Uh, thanks Val, but it's not really my style?" He worked a finger through one of the many holes in the garment. If he had to guess, he'd say the moths had started in on it in the 1960s, and nobody had stopped them.

"That was a joke, Fenton." Valerie wasn't actually laughing on her way down the stairs. "I found it in one of the rooms. From the busted-up door it looks like a ghost may have been looking for something in there, but hell if I know what. This one might be more useful– Here."

As he stood, she handed him a much more substantial looking garment. It was a light brown suede jacket, sherpa-lined with warm, fluffy looking wool. He tried it on, and the fit was good, even if it was a bit short in the arms. Danny experimentally flipped the collar up. It was well-worn and didn't stand on its own, but it would be extra warmth in a pinch.

"Nice find, Val. Thanks."

"No problem. So, how about that ghost hunting equipment?"

"Backpack." Danny made his way over to the quiet corner of the room where he'd deposited it. Besides forgotten stationary, it held the usual collection of Fentonworks tech and first aid supplies.

Despite what Valerie had suggested, his parents weren't nearly as paranoid as she seemed to think they were.

This was all Danny.

He dumped it out on the coffee table in the middle of the room, the firelight playing strangely over the otherworldly ectoplasm, sitting constrained, but not motionless, in tanks and cell-like structures on the outside of most of the assembled devices. It acted as both a coolant and a power source for many of the Fenton weapons and swirled threateningly in the fire's crackling glow.

Seeing this, Danny made a point to drag the coffee table away from the fireplace. This was no time to cause an explosion.

He peeked up and noticed Valerie checking out the impromptu armory. Suddenly, he looked back over it himself, mentally trying to catalog anything that might be dangerous in the Red Huntress's hands against his own ghostly alter-ego, if he didn't get it back tonight. Chief among them sat at the far end of the table. "Hey, Tucker, what's this busted thermos doing here? I thought I left it in Amity Park?"

Danny glanced up at his friend, hoping he would go with it. After a moment, recognition sparked in his eyes. "Ah, yeah, shame we didn't pack a working one." He plucked it off the table and clipped it to his belt. "Remind me to look it over when we get back."

Valerie smiled. "I'm starting to get a sense of what you were up to with Sam and Tucker all those nights where..."

Where he said he was too busy to go out. Or canceled on her. Or left mid-date and had a good reason the next morning. Danny wasn't sure if she was thinking of a specific night, exactly, or just their whole relationship in aggregate. But she didn't seem too annoyed about it, which brought a small smile to his own face. Of course she could relate. "Yeah, something like that."

He waited for a moment to see if she was going to tag anything on to the back of that to justify arming up. She hovered for a moment but said nothing. Valerie was still just acting like a normal teenager out on a ski trip.

"So, uh, you've seen cop shows right? Just aim and squeeze the trigger. And make sure it's not aimed at any of us, although I probably don't need to say that." He laughed lightly, like that part was a joke.

Either way, she took the excuse he'd provided. "Sure, I bet I can figure it out." She picked up an ectoblaster that Danny was pretty sure she could field strip and reassemble in the dark if she wanted to.

Danny's preferred weapons, in his limited human experience, were a bit more discrete. Things he could carry without attracting quite so much attention, since having anything shaped like a gun in his backpack or on a holster was very much out of the question at school. He pocketed a wrist ray and a lipstick blaster in the suede jacket, along with a travel-sized first aid kit that clipped snugly onto his belt. After it was secure he noticed Tucker stuffing a length of phase-proof rope into a leg pocket on his cargo pants.

At Danny's questioning look, he shrugged. "Never know when you're gonna need 50 feet of rope. Do you know how many dungeons I've escaped in D&D with the standard adventurer's kit?"

"Uh-huh." Nodding along was easier than arguing. "So, are we ready to head out?"

Valerie blinked and looked around the room like she'd misplaced something important.

"What's up Val?"

"Where's Weston?"

* * *

They found him upstairs.

The room at the end of the hall had become even more of a mess than the ransacked scene Danny had found half an hour ago, and yet infinitely better organized. Wes flitted from one side to another with a manic glint in his eye, chasing stray threads and reassembling most of the cork-board monstrosity as he went. He didn't even notice them until Danny managed to say "uh" from the doorway.

"Fenton!" Wes was on him in a flash, toothy grin from ear to ear and no recognition in his eyes. "Glad you're here, hold this—"

Danny nearly didn't grab on to the stack of yellowing papers he'd been handed in time, because Wes lost no time in dropping them and moving back across the room.

"Something _big_ is happening here." He threw a hand out to point at the map of the area, without stopping his search through a pile of ratty old newspapers. "And it looks like somebody was right on the cusp of figuring everything out, blowing the whole thing wide open!"

"Uh, Wes, what exactly are you talking about?"

"Disappearances!" He dropped the heap of newspapers and made his way to the pinboard. "See here—" Wes looked to his left and seemed surprised when Danny wasn't right next to him. He was across the room in 2 strides and pulled Danny over to the desk, Val and Tucker following after, all of them perplexed. "See here? Some kind of millionaire disappeared from this area back in 1966. But check this out—"

Wes's finger traced a string from a 1967 newspaper clipping to the map. There was a cluster of pins around one point in what looked like the middle of nowhere. "What's that supposed to be?"

"The side of a mountain, see how the lines are all tight together? So it's away from the town, but the important thing is," he traced a yarn on one of the pins to the other side of the board, where it was connected to some kind of photocopy of an earlier article; much earlier. "Look, there's some report about a kid who went missing on a Boy Scout trip in 1946. They only found his camp knife out in the mountains, but no body was ever recovered. Do you know what this means?"

Wes turned on them, the glint still in his eyes.

"You're enjoying this too much?" Danny offered.

Wes grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him a little shake. "It's a serial killer cult."

Danny had temporarily forgotten how to use language while he processed that, and what came out of his mouth would be more accurately described as a series of sounds rather than a question. Behind him, Tucker stage-whispered to Valerie. "Did he take any hits to the head while you two were snowboarding?"

Despite not being the one who said it, Danny was the one who got shoved as Wes frowned. "Come on, it just makes sense. 2006. 1966. 1946. It's got to be some kind of cult initiation thing. Maybe it's even a family of serial killers, you know, passing the tradition between generations. They could be cannibals. You know how weird people are out here, right?"

He was definitely starting to get a sense of that. "Three disappearances doesn't really prove much. It's the middle of the wilderness, stuff happens around here all the time."

The slightly manic smile was back. "I don't think it was just three disappearances."

"What—" Danny began, but Wes hadn't actually been waiting for a response. He was already rifling through his partially reorganized stacks of papers on the desk.

"There are gaps in the research here. Whoever put this together was referencing books on local folklore and history, but they're not in the room. I did find _this_ though." Wes picked up a book from the desk; it was journal-sized, with a splotch of ink on the cover. He held it open to a page full of meaningless letters and numbers. "It was sitting in the middle of the desk, and this page was bookmarked. You know what that means, right?"

"No?" Danny was (personally) getting tired of stupid leading questions. He wasn't on the same crazy wavelength. Nor did he realize just how crazy Wes was. The idea of serial killers in a ghost town was ridiculous on the face of it. There was a whole list of more likely culprits in Danny's mind, and on that list, Vlad was the first, second, and third entry. From Valerie and Tucker's uneasy, shifting silence behind him, he could only guess they were waiting for this to be over as much as he was. But clearly, Wes disagreed.

"No wonder you're flunking everything, do you never go to the library? These are _call numbers_. I bet whoever put all this together had to return a bunch of books when they left. If the building is still there, we should check it out. It might give us some idea of where to look for Samantha."

"Ok, first off, never call Sam that if you value your life." Danny counted off one finger on his hand. "Second, that's actually crazy. C'mon guys, back me up here."

When he turned to face them, Valerie looked deep in thought. "That's actually not a terrible idea, Fenton. Not the serial killer part," Wes huffed, and Danny was relieved she wasn't losing it too. "But if there is some kind of library in the town it might be worth checking out."

"I kind of hate that I'm agreeing with this, but you've gotta admit Danny, if we could figure out the deal with the ghosts it'd be a lot faster than wandering around trying to find them with your ghost—" Tucker's eyes widened and he cut himself off mid-sentence. They didn't know about Danny's ghost sense, and with any luck, they never would.

Valerie looked confused for a moment, before seeming to make a connection. Based on a glance at the jock, that was what really annoyed Wes. "Find them with your what?"

"Ghost... Tracker. We, my parents, have a ghost tracker. But it doesn't work, so we didn't bring it, remember Tucker?"

"Uh, yeah. That."

It looked a lot like Wes had more to say, but Valerie was getting good at defusing their arguments. In this case, Danny was incredibly grateful. "There's no time for this. _Whatever_ is going on, we need to find Sam. That's all the matters. We good?" She received silent, sometimes begrudging nods in response. "Good. Let's get out of here."

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered, and died.

Valerie cursed. "I was worried about that."

"Worried about what?" Tucker asked.

"Think about it. If you wanted to kidnap somebody and delay any hope of rescue, what would you do?"

"Oh, shit.

"Yeah."

"I'd cut the power."

It took Danny a second to realize what they were getting at. The gondola over from the base of the mountain had been a relatively smooth ride over remarkably jagged terrain, and one of their options for getting to the bottom had just been eliminated. " _Shit_."

"Yeah. One of us is going to need to get down there. Hands up everyone who thinks they can fix a generator?" Valerie raised her own hand. So did Tucker. "Think you can ski or snowboard down a double black diamond, Foley?" He lowered his hand. "I kinda thought so. Ok, you guys get to the lift station. Weston, I'm borrowing your board."

There is a subtle difference between a room that is dark because you've left the lights off, and a room that's dark because the power is out. It's like the shadows are somehow braver, creeping out from every crack and corner, knowing that there is nothing that can be done to halt their advance. The darkness becomes alive, it swirls around you, as unnerving as an open door behind your back.

Danny was appreciating that more and more as he waited for the others to get ready for their late-night excursion. He'd pulled his boots on in record time, and after an involuntary shiver, Tucker's extra scarf. The otherworldly presence on the other side of the glass had dulled to background noise, but now, back downstairs, it felt... Excited.

A helpful part of his brain asked if the power outage had really been to delay them or lure them outside. Humans were such fragile creatures without their electricity.

Not that he liked thinking about his friends (and Wes) as "the humans". It was a weird stray thought.

Danny shook it off and ducked back down the staircase, so he was out of view of the windows.

"Alright, I'm heading down." Valerie clapped gloved hands. Despite the circumstances, she actually looked a bit excited, with Wes's snowboard under one arm. "Just get to the lift station ASAP and hopefully I have the power back on soon."

In truth, Danny was worried about her going off on her own. It did seem like the Watchers or the orb or _whatever_ was mostly targeting people on their own, but there was no good way to bring that up. Maybe she'd be safe if she was quick enough, or well-armed enough. Or maybe he was getting too good at justifying bad ideas to himself.

He nodded all the same. "Ok. We'll be ready."

She took off at a jog, and the remaining trio began their exodus to the lift station.

Immediately when he was out the door, a chill crept up his spine again, and he held the coat's collar up high to try and block it. It helped a bit, but he was still shivering when Wes excused himself to "grab a couple of things" from his cabin.

Tucker looked at him incredulously. "How are you still cold? You're wearing half a sheep."

Danny shook his head, glancing back at Wes's cabin. He motioned for Tucker to get inside the building and let the door close behind them before he answered. "I have a theory about that. It might be a ghost thing."

"What kind of ghost thing?"

"Like, an ice core thing." Danny opened the doors that lead to the platform. The lift cables and pulley remained silent and stationary, but he didn't want to waste any time; the next car was only a few yards away. "It might be that the ghosts around here are making me feel more cold than usual. It's not even the weather so much as their... Aura, I guess." He already felt warmer, partly guarded against their careful observation by the building behind them and the roof above them.

"That can happen? I mean, we've interacted with a bunch of other ice core ghosts. Everyone in the Far Frozen. None of them did this to you, right?"

"Yeah, but maybe it's like resonance. Like it needs to be the right frequency or whatever to affect me."

"'Resonance'?" Tucker seemed skeptical. Danny couldn't blame him. The alien presence in his chest was a strange thing even after living with it for years. It was his core, the center of all his ghostly energies, whether he was a human or Danny Phantom. At rest, it vibrated and thrummed, hitting steady notes as he moved and shaped its energy to his whims. In some pitched battles, it practically sang. The idea that it could resonate made a certain amount of intuitive sense, even if it eluded his ability to explain it logically.

So instead he shrugged. "I dunno. That's what Frostbite called it."

"Who's Frostbite?"

Danny turned around abruptly, now face to face with Wesley, who was leaning on the doorway with a frown.

"Uh..." He looked at Tucker, who looked right back at him, just as lost.

"Y'know Dan, I'm starting to feel like there's a lot more to all this than you're letting on."

He bristled at that. "It's still 'Danny'."

"Just tonight I've found out that you apparently pack heat when you go on vacation. You know how to handle ghost hunting equipment, when somebody gets kidnapped your first thought is _ghosts_ instead of humans, and you keep making all these weird references to weird ghost shit. You know what I think?"

Danny's blood ran cold.

And it had nothing to do with Wes.

The Watchers had been excited, and now they were practically _giddy_. It felt like the air around them was crackling, until Danny had no idea how the other two could still be missing it.

And then they heard a shout from far below, followed by stray beams of ectoplasm forking wildly through the air.

Tucker raced to a railing that hung over the rocky hill below like a precipice. "Guys, we've gotta get down there."

Danny glanced back inside the lift station. The decor gave him an idea. "I've got an idea you're not gonna like, Tucker." He made it a few steps toward the door before Wes moved to block him.

"This isn't over, Danny."

Of course it wasn't. He pushed Wes out of the way, although the jock made no real effort to stop him.

Danny found what he was looking for, mounted high up a wall. He grabbed it by one end and tore it off the flimsy mount, so it fell to the floor with a pair of hollow thuds. Hopefully, it was as sturdy as it looked.

"You're right, Wes. We're just getting started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I just loaded at least a dozen Chekov's guns. It all came together a little exposition-y which I'm not entirely happy about, but for the record, this chapter also comes in at about the halfway point through the story outline.
> 
> Obviously, the plot points as outlined are weighted toward the front in the name of establishing the story, so it's probably not halfway through the actual story itself. If I had to put a number on it, I'd say we're looking at about 7 more chapters? But I'm as excited as anyone else to see how this actually pans out.
> 
> Oh, and there are a pair of sartorial references (of varying subtlety) to other horror stories in there. Did you spot them?


End file.
